


I Know What You Did Last Christmas

by lilyfanciesprongs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Next Gen, Romance, dramione - Freeform, scorose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 65,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyfanciesprongs/pseuds/lilyfanciesprongs
Summary: "She thought he was an absolute tosser, a no-good troublemaker who got on her nerves. He thought she was a stuck-up prig, a walking wet blanket who lived and breathed to make his life hell. And now they were all spending the Christmas holidays under one roof. Goodie." Scorose & Dramione. Rated Explicit for language and sexual content.





	1. Mistletoe & Holly

**Author's Note:**

> Songs Mentioned:   
> Santa, Baby – Michael Bublé  
> Blue Christmas – Michael Bublé  
> Repeat – Young The Giant  
> Doing Good – Milky Chance  
> Tunnel Vision – Justin Timberlake  
> The Scientist – Corinne Bailey Rae.

 

Mistletoe & Holly

Or

_Santa, Baby_

* * *

(December 24th – 9:07am – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

“Rose? Merlin’s beard, are you still sleeping?”

Hermione’s voice rang out in her bedroom, but the younger witch’s response merely came out as a groan.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘ _I’m trying’_.”

“Well, stop trying,” said her mother.

“What is it?” Rose said, barely opening an eye to glance at her mother.

“I need you lot to help me finish decorating before everyone gets here.”

Rose heard her footsteps cross the room in the direction of the window. A moment later, she pulled the drapes and light flooded the room.

“ _Mum!_ It burns!”

“Stop being so dramatic.”

“I’m not,” said Rose, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “It really does burn.”

“Well, that’s because you’ve been wallowing in here like a hermit and haven’t seen the sun in the last five days.”

Rose looked up at her. Hermione Granger (she’d never taken Ron’s name) didn’t look her age. She’d turned forty-four in September, but barely looked a day over thirty-five. She was wrinkle free, with her characteristic brown curls (that Rose had inherited in an auburn shade— _thanks Weasley genes_ ) and her knowing golden eyes, identical to her daughter’s, looked at Rose with a mixture of disapproval and sympathy. “Honestly, love, he’s not worth any of this.”

Rose sighed—rather pathetically, if you asked her—and Hermione sat down at the foot of the bed. “I know, Mum.”

I’ll give you the short version of Rose’s romantic failure story:

In her fifth year, she had begun seeing a bloke named Aiden Corner, a Ravenclaw a year above her. He was prefect and later Head Boy, tall, dark hair, dreamy, honey-colored eyes, the whole sh-bang. And just before the summer holidays, he’d been offered a job at the American Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. He’d left for New York at the end of the summer and they had continued their relationship long-distance for the past three and a half months, until just a week ago.

Rose had been packing her trunk for the Christmas holidays when he decided to inform her via owl that he felt it was best if they didn’t continue their relationship, because it had become a burden for him and—get this—he felt their fourteen months age gap was too much, that she was still very immature and was holding him back.

_That motherfucker._

“That boy will regret this later on,” her mother was saying. “He’ll come crawling back like a maggot, you’ll see.”

Rose managed a smile. Hermione had never liked Aiden. No matter how many times he corrected her, she insisted on calling him Cormac, for some reason Rose never understood, but it amused her Uncle Harry to no end.

“Now, get up,” said her mother. “The mistletoe isn’t hanging itself.”

“Are we really putting that up?” Rose said, disgusted.

“It’s tradition, Rose.”

“It’s a poisonous plant that isn’t even remotely pretty, Mum. I much prefer holly.”

Hermione smirked. “Well, Ms. Cynicism, the holly isn’t going to hang itself either. Come downstairs, Draco’s made breakfast for all of us.”

Rose groaned.

“Rose Ginevra…” Hermione said warningly.

“It’s not that, Mum,” she said, getting up and fetching her dressing gown. “You know I like Draco, I really do. It’s his offspring I’ve got a problem with.”

“Just behave,” said Hermione, heading for the door. “And maybe we’ll all make it through this holiday in one piece.”

“I will if he does,” Rose shrugged.

Rose’s parents had gone through a very high-profile divorce when she was twelve. The whole thing was a massive scandal that plastered every newspaper and magazine in Wizarding England, what with her dad being caught red-handed with an old flame of his: Lavender Brown, who had married Seamus Finnegan after the war and whose daughter, Briony, had gone to Hogwarts with Harry and Ginny’s eldest son, James. That incident drew a rift between Ron and the rest of the family, and threw them all back into the public eye.

Draco Malfoy and his ex-wife Astoria (whom Rose had never actually met but he and his son called _the harpy_ ) went through a divorce very similar to Ron and Hermione’s, but in his case it was the witch that was caught eating from someone else’s dinner plate, if you catch my meaning.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Hermione had begun dating her childhood nemesis and long-time coworker at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement two years prior. Rose had been doubtful at first, but eventually warmed up to him and so did Hugo, and they all got on wonderfully with the wizard now, particularly since Draco had moved in with them this past summer—with the aforementioned offspring in tow.

Scorpius.

_That little ferret._

Draco Malfoy’s only son was, at least physically, the spitting image of his father. Platinum blonde hair, steel grey eyes, flawless skin and a toned physique he owed to almost five years of playing Seeker for his house team. He was in Rose’s year at Hogwarts, and not only that—he was Head Boy. Oh, yes. Not only were their parents dating, not only did they have to live together when they were away from Hogwarts, not only did they play the same position on opposing Quidditch teams, they also had to work together nearly constantly. He’d been sorted into Slytherin along with Albus, and the two had become fast friends. But despite the fact that Albus and Rose were quite close, the younger Malfoy and she had never managed to properly get along for more than five minutes at a time.

She thought he was an absolute tosser, a no-good troublemaker who got on her nerves.

He thought she was a stuck-up prig, a walking wet blanket who lived and breathed to make his life hell.

And now they were all spending the Christmas holidays under one roof. _Goodie._

After a quick stop in the loo to brush her teeth, Rose followed the smell of breakfast downstairs and into the kitchen, where Hermione was serving coffee into several mugs on the counter. Draco, clad in an honest-to-God apron, was tending to a pan of eggs and some flatcakes on the stove, and Hugo and the Ferret were sitting at the table, in the middle of a discussion about last nights’ England – Germany football match (an interest that both father and son had taken up since Draco had begun seeing Hermione), this morning’s paper between them.

“Good morning, everyone,” she said.

Draco turned to her. “Oh good, you’re up. I put some bacon on for you, would you like some?”

Rose smiled and nodded, taking a seat at the table next to Hugo.

Scorpius’ attention was drawn from his discussion with Hugo and he turned to his father. “Oi, why aren’t you offering me any bacon?”

Draco cocked an eyebrow at his son. “Because you’re allergic, smartarse. And as much as I think Rose would enjoy it, I’m pretty certain that it’s frowned upon to murder your only son by feeding him food he’s allergic to.”

“Damn it,” Rose pretended to frown. “It’s alright, Draco, I can share mine with him. We don’t have to tell anyone.”

Draco laughed, setting the flatcakes, eggs, toast and a steaming plate of bacon down in the center of the table before taking a seat next to Scorpius.

“No, it’s alright, _Rosie_. You can have your bacon,” Scorpius said. “We all know we need to finish fattening you up if you’re going to be ready for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Charming, Scorp, really,” she said, helping herself to breakfast. “Pray tell, how _is_ it that you managed to date Francesca if you’re allergic to pork?”

“Okay, bringing up my history with Zabini is just low, Weasley,” he said, but he smiled nonetheless, buttering his toast.

“Oh, but Porkchops is such a lovely girl,” Rose smirked. “Shame her nose is shaped the way it is, though. But love is blind, or so they say.”

“I was young and foolish,” Scorpius defended. “Much like _you_ , when you thought dating the most boring, vapid, airheaded bloke Hogwarts had to offer was a good idea.”

“I may not have the best memory, Malfoy, but I’m pretty sure I’d never stoop so low as to date _you_.”

The blond snorted rather inelegantly. “You should be so lucky. But no, really, I have half a mind to write Corner and ask him how he managed to trick the Sorting Hat into placing him in Ravenclaw.”

Rose almost laughed at that, Aiden not being her favorite person at the moment, but managed to keep a straight face. She turned to Draco, holding up a forkful of bacon. “Are you sure you don’t want me to feed him any of this? I can make it look like an accident.”

“Be my guest,” said Draco with a smirk.

“ _Dad!_ ”

Hermione snorted, setting down a cup of coffee in front of Rose before taking her seat. “Don’t encourage them, Draco,” she said to the elder wizard, who looked amused by the two teenagers.

“No no, by all means, carry on,” cut in Hugo, his blue eyes dancing with mirth. “It’ll be fun to see if they’ll actually have an honest go at each other one of these days and we get to watch an inspiring duel to the death or something.”

His mother narrowed her eyes at him. “Hugo Alexander…”

“What?” he answered, his mouth full of food.

“If you all are quite done with your bickering,” she went on. “I need you two,” she pointed at Scorpius and Rose, “to help me decorate once you finish your breakfast, everyone is coming around at two. And you,” she glanced at Hugo, “are going down to the bakery to pick up the cakes for dessert.”

Hugo gaped at her. “In _that_?” he asked, gesturing to the snowfall outside. “Why can’t I stay and decorate with this lot?”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, not a hint of mercy in her tone. “I wasn’t aware that you were allowed to do magic at sixteen. I need Scorpius and Rose to stay because it’ll take a lot less time with three wands.”

Hugo groaned.

“Besides,” she went on, the smallest inkling of a smile creeping on her face. “Draco will take you in the car. You have to stop by the liquor store for drinks as well.”

Hugo looked over to Draco, his mouth gaping. “You let me think she was sending me out in the snow!”

Draco laughed. “If you promise not to crash it, I’ll let you drive.”

“Say goodbye to your car, then,” Rose deadpanned and they all laughed except a scowling Hugo.

* * *

( _Blue Christmas_ – December 24th – 2:34pm – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

Rose just finished slipping into her dress, checking her reflection when a knock sounded on the door to her room.

“Come in!” she called.

The door opened, admitting Scorpius, dressed in a navy jumper and jeans. “Oh, it’s you,” said Rose.

“Hermione sent me to get you,” he explained. “Harry and Ginny are here with Al, James and Lily. So are Arthur and Molly.”

“Oh, right,” she said. “Er—zip me up, will you?”

Scorpius hesitated for a moment before walking over to the witch and pulling up the zipper that closed her dress over the creamy skin of her back. He looked at her through their reflection. “Not bad, Weasley. You clean up alright.”

She smirked. “Not bad, yourself. I almost didn’t recognize you without a scowl on your face.”

He scowled and she laughed. “There it is.”

“Come on,” he said, heading for the door. “Everyone’s waiting.”

She followed him downstairs, greeting her aunt and uncle as well as her grandfather before finding her cousins in the kitchen with Hugo and Molly, who was helping Draco with the cooking.

“Rosie!” called James. She rushed up and hugged her eldest cousin, who then shook Scorpius’ hand while Rose greeted her grandmother, Albus and Lily, and Hugo fetched butterbeers for all of them. “How are Head duties treating you both?”

“Well, it’s certainly easier since you’ve left Hogwarts,” said the blond.

“Is it?” asked James, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. It seemed all the Potter males carried the curse of near-sightedness.

“There’s no one to dock points from now,” Rose explained, and the others laughed before Molly promptly kicked them out of the kitchen. They all relocated to the sitting room and the conversation quickly turned to Quidditch.

“There’s no _way_ Puddlemere isn’t getting to the finals this year,” Albus was saying.

“I don’t know, Al,” Hugo said. “The Harpies have certainly stepped up their game since Aunt Ginny started coaching them.”

“It was about time, too,” said Lily, the only one of the Potter children to have inherited the combination of Ginny’s red hair and Harry’s bright green eyes. “They’ve been terrible since Mum left the team.”

“Not like you were old enough to remember,” quipped James, taking a swig from the butterbeer in his hand. His sister turned her angry green eyes on him.

“Yes, I was!” she shot back. Ginny had been Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies until Lily turned six, but before that the three Potters were a staple at her games, cheering their mother on from the stands with Harry. Just then, the phone started ringing and Hermione rushed to pick up. After a moment, she called out to Hugo, who excused himself from the conversation before walking over.

“Don’t any of you feel bad, rooting against your own mother’s team?” asked Scorpius.

The three Potters shot him identical bemused looks.

“No.”

“Not remotely.”

“Why would we?”

“She’d have our heads if we were rooting for the Harpies solely because she’s the coach,” Albus explained. “Right, Mum?”

Ginny looked over from where she stood talking with the other adults, having caught her son’s words. “Damn straight,” she said.

“This family is so weird,” Scorpius said.

“You’re telling me,” said Hugo, dropping back into the armchair he had previously occupied, a scowl on his freckled face.

“Rose!” called Hermione’s voice. The witch left her drink on the coffee table, excusing herself before walking over to her mother.

“Yes?”

“Your father is on the phone for you in the study,” said Hermione.

Rose’s face hardened. “Mum…”

“Rose,” Hermione said. “He hasn’t seen you in almost three years. He just wants to talk to you, and Hugo already said no.”

“Shocker,” Rose deadpanned. “Well, I don’t want to talk to him either.”

“It’s Christmas, love. Just give him a chance. He might surprise you.”

Rose sighed. “Fine.”

She walked down the hall to the study, picking up the phone a moment later. “Hello?”

“Hi, Rose,” came the voice of Ron Weasley.

“Hi.”

“Did you get my presents?”

“I suppose so,” she said, keeping her tone even. “We won’t open anything until tomorrow though.”

“Of course… Listen, we haven’t talked in a few months and I wanted to congratulate you.”

“Oh?”

“On getting Head Girl and Quidditch Captain,” Ron elaborated. “It’s great, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”

“Well, not that your pride means anything to me at this point, but thanks.”

“Rose…”

“What?”

“I’d like to see you and your brother. You should come by while you’re still on holiday.”

“Yeah, and spend the weekend with your heinous _wife_?” she spat. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

“Well, that’s just too damn bad, isn’t it?” she snapped.

“Rose Weasley,” Ron warned. “I’m still your father.”

“Regretfully so,” she shot back. “Don’t know why you still bother with that title, seeing as you skipped out on fulfilling all fatherly duties the second the ink was dry on your divorce papers from Mum. I expect you were just following Lavender’s footsteps, with how she skipped out unceremoniously, too. How _is_ the she-wolf doing, by the way? Never mind, don’t answer that. I’ve just decided I don’t care, just like you decided once upon a time that you don’t care about us, particularly Mum.”

“Rose,” Ron sighed over the phone. “I will always care for your mother, despite the fact that I mucked things up with her.”

“Well, oddly enough, she doesn’t _need_ you to care for her. Draco’s got that way more than covered, on top of filling in for your fatherly duties rather spectacularly,” she said. Bringing up Draco to her father might’ve been considered a low blow, with their history, but Rose didn’t particularly care. “We don’t need you.”

“Rose—”

“I have to go. Happy Christmas.”

And without waiting for an answer, she hung up the phone. Bracing herself on the desk, she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. A moment later, she walked back to the living room.

“No surprises there,” she muttered to her mother, passing by her and heading upstairs towards her room. She shut the door behind her and walked over to the window, still trying to still her breathing. A minute later, someone knocked on the door.

“Not now, Mum,” she called back.

The door opened and Draco walked in. “I figured it was safe, considering I’m not your mother.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she frowned. “What do you want?” she sighed.

“That bad, was it?” he countered, shutting the door before putting his hands in his pockets.

“Worse, probably,” she admitted. “I brought you up at one point.”

“Did you?” Draco looked surprised. “Bet Weasley loved that.”

She smirked. “How come you two never got along?”

“Besides me being the king of all pricks when we were kids?” Draco asked, and Rose chuckled.

He approached the window, giving his freshly-trimmed beard a scratch, looking out at the snow. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that Ron Weasley and I are polar opposites. Even if we’d ever managed to reach an understanding of sorts, I don’t think he and I would ever really see eye to eye. I guess your father never really understood that I had changed, that I no longer believed all the pureblood brainwashing I was brought up on and that I was trying to be a better person. He never outright forgave me for the mistakes I made in my youth, like Harry did, and later on, your mother.”

Rose nodded in understanding. “Did she send you up to check on me?”

“I offered,” said the wizard. “I actually wanted to talk to you.”

The younger witch frowned. “What about?”

“You know I love your mother, Rose,” the wizard began. “I honestly wasn’t expecting to fall for her as I did, not after all these years and particularly not considering how we were when we were younger.”

Rose couldn’t help but smile as well as the wizard continued. “And I’ve grown to love you and your brother as well, as I’m sure she has with Scorpius. I know the two of you don’t particularly see eye to eye, but I must admit I enjoy watching you bicker. You remind me of how Hermione and I were when we were about your age, just after the War, when we first had to work together and still hadn’t figured out how to get along. Hermione is the only person who’s always been able to match me wit for wit, to shoot back scathing comments when I riled her up. She really is something.”

“She is,” Rose agreed.

Draco sighed and paused, looking as though he was trying to figure out the best way to say what was on his mind. Rose’s golden eyes watched him closely.

“You want to ask her to marry you,” she said finally.

Draco looked at her. “I want to ask your permission first,” he amended.

Rose blinked. “My permission?”

The wizard nodded.

Rose mulled it over for a moment before speaking. “She wasn’t the same after Ron left. Hugo doesn’t properly remember, but I do. She used to crawl into bed with me just to get some sleep, and she cried most nights. I almost didn’t go back to Hogwarts that year; I was so worried for her. But she insisted that my education was more important, you know what she’s like,” she smiled and so did Draco. “Eventually it calmed down a bit, but I could still tell she was sad.”

She paused again before continuing. “She didn’t tell us you were seeing each other at first, you know. But I could tell she had met someone. Her tone in her letters was different, and when we came home for the summer I caught her singing in the shower again. I had my doubts at first, but you make her really happy, Draco. And you’ve been good to us, to Hugo and to me.”

Draco nodded. “So you’re saying yes?”

“I think I can speak for both of us, though you might want to mention it to Hugo, too. But yes, I think it’s a good idea.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Rose laughed, pulling him in for a hug. “I think I can get by sharing one roof with your offspring—I mean, the past six months have been a good trial run, and we haven’t blown up Hogwarts… Yet. But that’s if he promises to behave. Otherwise, I make a mean bacon sandwich, pun intended.”

The wizard chuckled. “Come on,” he said. “Everyone’s asking where you got to.”

* * *

(December 24th – 6:37pm – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

A few hours later, they were all having dinner in the dining room, and Rose had somehow found herself seated between James and Scorpius. She was in the middle of passing James the mashed potatoes when Lily said her name.

“Hm?”

“Are you going to the MacMillan’s New Year’s party?”

“Merlin, no,” she laughed. “Those things are always horrid.”

“Precisely,” said James with a grin. “I just might make an appearance myself.”

“You should,” said Hugo. “Lily, Al, Scorp and I are going.”

“Aren’t your friends going to be there?” Lily asked Rose.

“Gaia is spending New Year’s in New York with her parents,” answered the older witch. “And Sicily is in Amsterdam visiting her dad’s family.”

“You should come, Rosie,” Albus said. “It’ll be fun.”

“Please, Al,” Scorpius cut in for the first time, taking a sip of butterbeer. “If you actually want her to go, you can’t say it’s _fun_. The incorruptible Rose Weasley wouldn’t be caught dead having fun.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll have you know, ferret face—”

“What are you lot going on about?” asked Draco from down the table.

James was first to respond. “We’re all trying to get Rose to go to Connor and Finley’s New Year’s Party.”

“Aren’t those Ernie Macmillan’s twins?” asked Ginny.

Hugo nodded. “They’re in Rose’s year.”

“They’re Hufflepuff’s like Ernie,” added Harry. “But from what I’ve heard from Neville, they make Fred and George antics at Hogwarts look tame.”

“Merlin,” chuckled Hermione. “Where did you say the party was?”

“The Leaky Cauldron,” said Lily. “They’ve rented out the whole thing for the event, bar included.”

“But _Rosie_ here won’t go,” said Scorpius, smirking at the witch in question. “She doesn’t know how to properly have fun, I think.”

“Of course I do,” snapped Rose, “I just don’t think—”

“You should go,” Draco cut in, and they all turned to look at him. Rose’s jaw dropped. So did Scorpius’. Evidently, neither of them had expected Draco to encourage the idea.

“ _What_?” they both said in unison.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Hermione piped in. “The two of you could use some time to have fun and learn to get along.”

“Mum, I really don’t think—”

“Really, Hermione—”

“Stop it,” said the witch, “You’re both going, you’re getting along and that’s final.” And her tone was such that both teenagers shut up and, scowling, returned their attention to their plates as the others carried on in conversation.

* * *

( _Repeat_ – December 31st – 8:39pm – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

Rose had a headache.

She checked her reflection once more in her mirror, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in her dark green dress and dark stockings, held up on her thighs by a charm. She had debated wearing her hair up, but decided against it, as pulling up her abundant curls would most likely aggravate her headache, and instead let it hang down her back freely, held back from her face with a gold headband. With a sigh, she slipped into a pair of heeled shoes and left her room.

Despite having raved about how much fun they would all have at the MacMillans’ party, the three Potter cousins had had to cancel, as they were all sick and bedridden after playing in the snow all day with their youngest cousins, ten-year-old Fred and eight-year-old Roxanne, at George and Angelina’s the day before. That meant Rose would have to go to the party with Hugo and his holy ferretness, all on her own.

She ran into Hugo on the landing halfway down the stairs—or rather, he almost ran her over in his hurry to get upstairs. Despite the fact that Rose was almost two years older, Hugo had inherited his father’s stature and, since being visited by the Puberty Fairy, towered a good five inches over her.

“Oi!”

“Oh, sorry, sis. I forgot my cloak and I’m running late.”

She frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Change of plans,” the wizard explained. “Jude got us tickets to the Weird Sister’s show tonight. Looks like you and Scorpius are on your own.”

Rose groaned. “Please, Hugo. You can’t leave me alone with him. I’ll do anything.”

“Fat chance,” Hugo scoffed. “It’s their farewell performance and it’s New Year’s Eve.”

“I’m your only sister!”

“You’ll be fine. He’s not that bad, honestly.”

She shot one final dirty look at her brother before making her way to the kitchen, opening the drawer where Hermione usually kept potions and muggle medicines, but found nothing that could relieve the pounding between her temples. She frowned.

“Mum?” she called out.

“Up here!” rang Hermione’s voice.

Rose followed the sound and eventually found Hermione, along with Draco, standing on either side of the door that lead to the room Scorpius occupied permanently since the previous summer.

“Do you have any pain potion?” asked the younger witch. “I have a headache and I checked downstairs but there isn’t any left.”

“I think I might have some left in my bathroom,” said Hermione. “I’ll go have a look; it’ll just be a minute.”

She walked away in the direction of the master bedroom and Rose turned to Draco, now noting the look of concern on the man’s pointed face. “What’s going on?”

“The mail came while we were waiting for you to finish getting ready,” the wizard said. When Rose looked even more confused, he elaborated. “Astoria sent him a letter. It’s the first we’ve heard of her in a year, maybe more. I don’t even know what it said, and I was just about to ask, but he locked himself in and won’t speak to anyone.”

Rose frowned. She knew that Scorpius wasn’t particularly close with his mother. Hermione had told her that in the settlement when Draco had divorced the witch, Astoria had received next to nothing on the grounds of her adultery violating the contract of their arranged marriage. Draco had fought her for custody of Scorpius, winning the legal battle after Scorpius himself, then just eleven years old, stated in court that he’d much rather live with his father. Rose vaguely recalled a news headline announcing that the witch had afterwards left the country for Belgium and was living with the man she’d cheated on Draco with, a wealthy pureblood wizard who owned a chain of luxury hotels across Europe. She couldn’t say she’d given the matter much thought, but from the looks of things, Scorpius’ relationship with his mother was just as estranged as her own with Ron. And for the first time, Rose felt something akin to empathy for her long-time rival.

“Would you let me try?” she told Draco, and the wizard actually looked surprised. She shrugged. “Out of all of us, I think I can relate best to his situation. It can’t hurt, can it?”

“I suppose not,” said the wizard.

Just then, Hermione returned, handing Rose a vial of potion. Muttering thanks, she downed its contents, humming in appreciation as her headache subsided almost immediately. She drew her wand from the pocket concealed in her dress, wordlessly unlocking Scorpius’ door.

“Give me five minutes,” she told Draco before opening the door.

Scorpius was sitting on the bed, his back to the door, and didn’t turn when he heard the opening and closing of the door.

“Dad, I told you I don’t want to talk.”

“Good thing I’m not your dad, then,” Rose smirked. The wizard turned his head towards her, surprised etched into his features.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said after a moment.

“My mum said the same thing when I was born,” she joked, and he almost smiled before his face fell once more. “Mind if I sit with you?”

He shook his head and Rose walked over to the bed, sitting beside him, just far enough that they weren’t touching but close enough to feel the warmth from his leg on her thigh. For a few moments, neither spoke.

“What happened?”

He sighed, gesturing to the piece of parchment laying on the nightstand. From where she sat, Rose could make out the sharp curves and angles of Astoria Greengrass’ handwriting. “The last time I saw her was before fourth year. She hasn’t written in almost a year and a half. No birthday wishes, no congratulations on making prefect, or Head Boy, or Quidditch Captain, nothing. _That_ ,” he once again pointed at the offending letter, “is only to invite me to her impending nuptials to that arsewipe she left us for. She expects me to just show up and be happy for her, like nothing ever happened and she’s always been the best mother to grace the earth.”

Rose nodded in understanding. Another moment of silence passed before she spoke. “I haven’t seen my father since the summer after fourth year,” she said.

Scorpius looked at her. “No?”

She shook her head. “He called on Christmas Eve. Wants us to pop in for a visit and spend time with him and _Lav-Lav_ ,” she spat the nickname like it tasted of vinegar. “The nerve of him, honestly…”

Scorpius said nothing, so she continued.

“I expect you know, but he lives in Dublin now. He and Lavender got married at the end of that summer I last saw him. I came home early and refused to go to the wedding, and so did Hugo. He’s gone to visit only once, at Christmas last year, but came back a few days before he was supposed to and hasn’t wanted to see or speak to Ron since. I still don’t understand it, you know? It completely escapes me how a man who had everything, a brilliant career and a family, was able to just throw it all away and run off with some bint who was also married. I hate him for it,” she admitted softly. “I hate what he did to Mum, and I hate that we were—”

“Never enough,” Scorpius finished for her and she nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. “I never understood it either. I mean, she wasn’t the motherly type,” he explained and Rose watched him closely as he spoke with anger in his grey eyes. “I don’t have a single happy memory from my childhood that involves her. She never paid much attention to me, other than to correct any behavior that she found _unbecoming_ or annoying, on the off chance that she was even around. Since I can remember, it’s always been my dad who was there for me. Hell, your own mum has been more of a mother to me in just two years than Astoria ever was.”

“I feel the same way about your dad,” Rose admitted.

“He wants to marry her.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Scorpius looked mildly surprised again.

Rose nodded. “He asked my permission to ask her a week ago.”

“Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Scorpius grinned. “I think it’s brilliant. They’re good for each other, no?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. After a moment: “Look at that. After all these years, we finally agree on something.”

“If anyone had told me a few years back that our parents would possibly be getting married and we’d actually be on board with it, I’d have suggested a proper mental health care facility for them.”

Rose actually laughed at that. “Likewise.”

Scorpius looked at her, as if noticing her dress, shoes and makeup for the first time. “You look nice.”

“Thank you. Wish I could say the same for you, though,” she smirked at his outfit of pajama pants and an old Quidditch jersey.

“I don’t feel much like going anywhere,” he shrugged.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Rose, getting up and walking to his closet, pulling out a dress shirt and pants for him. “Here, get dressed. Hugo’s off to some concert with his dipshit of a best mate, I’m already dressed _and_ I did my hair. And since _you_ were the one who so intelligently got us into this mess, the least you can do is take me to this bloody party you were so excited about going to.”

Scorpius sighed. “I don’t know…”

Rose sighed and walked back towards him. “Look. Your mother’s a bitch, and my father is a dickhead. But it’s New Year’s Eve and I’ve got a feeling Connor and Finley bought every bottle of liquor in London. So let’s just forget about our mediocre parents and get sloshed, yeah?”

After mulling it over for a moment, Scorpius smirked in a way eerily similar to his father. “Get out so I can change.”

Rose grinned. “You have two minutes,” she said, walking to the door.

Two minutes and fourty-seven seconds later, Scorpius opened the door to his room and found Rose waiting outside.

“You clean up alright,” she said.

He shrugged and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

She hesitated before looping her arm through his. “Let’s go.”

They went downstairs, heading for the door before Hermione’s voice called out. They found her and Draco in the living room, also dressed up.

“Where are you kids off to?” asked the older witch, putting on her earrings.

“Well, Hermione,” said Scorpius. “Rose here convinced me that it might be fun to go to the Leaky Cauldron tonight.”

“Did she?” asked Draco, looking pleasantly surprised, and Rose shot him a smile.

“Where are you two going?” asked Scorpius, eyeing his father’s suit and Hermione’s attire.

“Ministry party,” explained the witch, getting up from the couch. “We were just about to Floo over. Have you two got money?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Wands?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Alright then,” said Hermione. “Have fun and be safe.”

“Don’t wait up!” called Rose as the two headed for the door, grabbing cloaks along the way. A moment later, the adults heard the front door shut and the _crack_ of Disapparition.

“Draco,” mused Hermione as the wizard fetched their own cloaks. “You don’t think…”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Hermione gave him a look.

“The two of them?”

The witch nodded.

Draco paused for a moment. “Maybe,” he said finally. “I doubt it, though.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “They can’t stand each other.”

 _Neither could we_ , thought Draco, but he said nothing, instead handing Hermione the jar full of Floo powder from the mantelpiece.

* * *

( _Doing Good_ – December 31 st – 10:05pm – The Leaky Cauldron – London)

Rose and Scorpius’ arrival at the Leaky Cauldron went largely unnoticed, as the bar was packed and bursting at the seams with their classmates, Hogwarts alumni and the rest of Connor and Finley MacMillan’s guests, the place almost shaking with the volume of the music playing. After a hostess took their cloaks and Rose’s purse, Rose caught a glance of a Ravenclaw sixth year girl who was filling in as DJ for the night, before the pair ran into the hosts, and both twins looked equally surprised to see her at Scorpius’ side.

“Look at that, Con,” said the twin recognizable as Finley by his eyes, which were blue in contrast to his brother’s, which were green. “If it isn’t our _lovely_ Head Girl.”

“I think we’ve managed to pull together a rather classy get-together then, if we got Rose to turn out, eh, Fin?” replied Connor, talking loudly over the din of the music and partygoers. “You’re looking rather ravishing tonight,” he said to Rose.

The twins then took turns kissing Rose’s hand, and she actually giggled. “If I didn’t know better I’d say the two of you were trying to chat me up.”

“Us?” the twins said in unison. “Never!”

Scorpius cleared his throat loudly enough to catch the attention of the other three, a scowl on his pale face. “Are we going to stand here all night or did you two actually buy any liquor?”

“Blimey Malfoy, eager to commence the festivities?” said Connor with a grin.

“What do you take us for, _amateurs?_ ” asked Finley. “The bar is packed with just about anything you want. We’ve got butterbeer, Odgen’s Finest and a bunch of muggle liquor too: rum, vodka, gin and tequila. Help yourselves, it’s all on us.”

“Oh,” Connor called after them. “And if either of you get lucky tonight, the rooms upstairs are on us, too,” he said with a wink. “Happy New Year!”

Rolling their eyes and bidding the twins goodbye, Rose let Scorpius lead her to the bar, where he called over one of the bartenders the twins had hired.

“I’ll have a shot of rum and… Butterbeer for you?” he asked the witch.

Rose looked offended. “I’ll have rum as well,” she told the bartender.

The bartender nodded and walked away, returning with their orders a moment later. Scorpius watched, his eyebrows high on his forehead, as Rose took her shot and tossed it back without hesitation, the liquor burning a trail down her throat as she swallowed. The witch slammed the glass back on the table before giving her head a quick shake, her auburn curls bouncing with the movement.

Upon noticing how Scorpius was watching her, she laughed and pointed to his untouched shot. “Are you going to drink that or do you need some help?”

Scorpius smirked and, not wanting to fall behind, mirrored her actions, tossing back his drink and slamming the glass down on the bar beside Rose’s empty one.

“I never took you for a hard drinker,” he commented, his voice loud so they could hear each other above the music and the chatter of the party.

“Well, _Scorp_ ,” she shot back, waving the bartender over, “there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

After each had had another two shots, Scorpius asked the bartender to leave the bottle. “Like what?”

Rose blinked. “What?”

“Your mum said we should learn to get along,” Scorpius said. “I think that entails getting to know each other a little better, don’t you think?”

She nodded in agreement. “So far all I know about you is that you ride a Nimbus 2100 identical to mine and you’ve got a shit relationship with your mother.”

“My point exactly. So, enlighten me. What don’t I know about the great Rose Weasley?”

Rose pondered his question for a moment, already beginning to feel the buzz of the alcohol in her system. “I’m allergic to dogs,” she said finally.

“I’m allergic to bacon.”

Rose laughed. “I already knew that, smartarse.”

“Bugger.”

“Try something else.”

“Er… I’m fluent in German.”

“Are you?” asked Rose, looking genuinely surprised. The wizard nodded.

“I spent a month in Berlin a few summers ago and got a tutor to teach me.”

“That’s brilliant! I played football when I was younger.”

It was Scorpius’ turn to look surprised. “Really?”

Rose nodded. “I was rather good, too, but I quit when I left for Hogwarts and decided to stick to just Quidditch.”

“I wanted to play Chaser when I first tried out for the team,” Scorpius confessed. “But it turns out I inherited Dad’s Seeker genes.”

They continued in a similar fashion until the bottle of rum was more than half empty and the bar practically spun around them.

“I’m not a virgin,” was Rose’s next confession.

Scorpius looked properly surprised at that one. “Really?”

Rose shook her head. “I’m not as much of a prude as you think I am, Malfoy. Particularly not when I’ve had rum,” she added.

Scorpius smirked. “Gave it up to Corner, then?”

She looked properly disgusted, but nodded nonetheless before taking another shot. “Summer before last. That rat _bastard_.”

“Can’t say I ever liked the bloke myself,” shrugged the wizard, also taking a drink.

“What about you?” asked Rose. Inconspicuous

“Hm?”

“You obviously aren’t a virgin,” she stated matter-of-factly, her words slurring only slightly.

“No, I’m not,” he smirked.

“So, who’d you lose it to?”

The wizard hesitated to answer, even in his drunken state. “I’m not sure I want you knowing this.”

“Please,” Rose scoffed. “It’s not as if you slept with Porkchops—”

But even in the dimly lit bar, Rose was able to make out the guilty look on his face. “ _No_!” she gasped. “You did _not_!”

“It appears that the summer before last was apparently perfect for bad decisions,” he said.

“I cannot believe you lost your virginity to Francesca Zabini!”

“Trust me, I can’t believe it either,” he deadpanned. “I’ve been considering doing a Memory Charm to block the memory of it from my mind.”

Rose laughed and he served them each another shot. Then he noticed Rose swaying to the music, a bass-heavy song somewhere between pop and R&B blaring through the bar.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked.

“What?” asked the witch, who hadn’t heard him properly over the music.

“I asked,” he nearly shouted. “If you would like to dance.”

The witch’s eyebrows rose slightly, but she nodded, grinning. Taking the last shots Scorpius had poured out, he took her hand and led her out to the crowded dance floor.

* * *

( _Tunnel Vision_ – December 31 st – 11:53pm – The Leaky Cauldron, Bar – London)

At first, they had started out barely touching, but eventually the beat and liquor encouraged them and he pulled her closer, his hands on her hips as they moved in time to the music. Rose had wrapped her arms around his neck at the same time as he slid a leg between her thighs, their foreheads almost touching as they grinded against each other to the heavy pounding of the song.

Truth be told, if someone had told her this morning that she’d be dancing like this with Scorpius Malfoy, she’d have laughed herself silly.

But now, her eyes closed, one of her hands found its way into his silky hair, and she noticed how his grip on her hips tightened and she relished the sensation. His lips were just an inch from hers, so close she could smell the rum on his breath tickling her lip. The song changed to a slower, sexier tune, and the heat on the packed dance floor was almost suffocating, but the bass was just as heavy, and Scorpius’ grip never slackened as he guided her hips to move against him, completely unaware of how much he was arousing her.  

Then the music stopped and the DJ began leading the crowd in counting down the seconds to midnight.

_Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven… Six…_

Her eyes opened and after a moment, so did his and she saw then that they were dark with lust and staring into her in such a way that she thought she might catch fire from the intensity of his gaze alone.

_Five… Four… Three… Two… One! Happy New Year!_

A voice in her head told her it was mad, surely, but Rose paid the little voice no attention when he caught her lips in a searing kiss. Ignoring the crowd around them, she responded immediately and enthusiastically, hiking up one of her legs to his hip and moaning when he held it there. His hand slipped under the skirt of her dress to grab onto her upper thigh as they continued to move against each other and he explored her mouth with his tongue, his other hand buried deep in the soft curls of her hair. Rose could feel his growing erection rubbing against her center, and after a few seconds, they broke apart, but she refused to remove her arms from around his shoulders.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she whispered in his ear.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Grinning wickedly, he let her lead the way out of the dance floor and towards the stairs to the upper floors of the inn. On the way, they encountered a number of couples in various stages of seduction and drunkenness on the stairs and lining the hall of the first floor. She took the stairs to the second floor in front of him, and Scorpius took the opportunity to look at the way her dress molded itself to her swaying hips, the skirt stopping just short of mid-thigh before her long, toned legs, clad in dark stockings, stopped at a pair of black heels.

Rose seemed to feel his gaze on her, as she shot him a grin over her shoulder. Tossing her hair back, she took out her wand and wordlessly cast a spell that caused a gust of wind to hit them in the empty hallway, her skirt flying up just enough to give him a peek of the lace that topped off her stockings and a hint of dark lace knickers. His eyes widened.

“I never thought I’d see you in such debauchery, _Rosie_ ,” he smirked.

She looked over his shoulder at him again. “I told you I’m not as much of a prude as you think I am.”

Grabbing her by the wrist, he pulled her back towards him and slammed her against the wall, kissing her hungrily and once again hiking one of her legs up onto his hip, running his hand over those bloody stockings before slipping his arm between them and teasing her through the thin lace of her knickers. Rose’s eyes fluttered shut and she moaned into his mouth. Taking this as his cue to continue, Scorpius moved her knickers out of the way before slipping two fingers between her slick lower lips, finding the swollen, sensitive point at the top at the same time as his mouth moved to kiss and suckle at her neck.

“ _More_ ,” she moaned.

Tentatively, he slipped a finger inside her. Marveling at how her walls felt around his fingers, he felt himself grow impossibly harder at the thought of how she would feel around his shaft.

“Merlin,” he breathed against her neck, slipping another finger inside her and grinning when she moaned in appreciation, her hand stroking him through his trousers. “You’re so wet.”

“Room,” she choked out, her breath ragged. “ _Now.”_

* * *

( _The Scientist_ – January 1st – 12:07am – The Leaky Cauldron, Third Floor – London)

They found an empty room on the third floor above the bar. Rose opened the door with her wand, locking it with a charm before Scorpius slammed her against the back of the door and kissed her fiercely, his fingers unzipping the dress at her back.

“You look amazing in green,” he said and she chuckled, also making quick work of the buttons of his shirt.

“Don’t get too used to it,” she said, just as the dress fell to her feet. Kissing him again, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and a moment later, he tossed it across the room and she giggled. Scorpius picked her up then, working off her bra as he carried her to the bed. He tossed her onto it, taking a moment to admire her as she kicked off her shoes.

Her dark red curls were strewn across the bedspread like a cloud, her cheeks flushed and her lips tinted and swollen from all their kissing. She wasn’t the least bit shy under his gaze—the rum was probably to blame there. He could now get a good look at her perfect breasts and the black lace knickers and the blasted stockings that made her legs look amazing. Keeping his gaze on her, he gripped her hips and brought them nearly to the edge of the bed. He kissed her neck, then her collarbones, making a stop to suck on each dusty pink nipple until she moaned, before pulling down her knickers with his teeth with agonizing patience. Once they were off, he lost all sense of patience and opened her legs as far as they would go, kissing and biting a trail up her inside of her thigh before giving her aching, wet pussy a good, long lick, savoring her sweet taste.

“Oh, god,” Rose moaned, her eyes shut and her hands gripping onto the bedspread for dear life as Scorpius began to suck on her clit and sent her into overdrive. “Oh _god…_ ”

The blonde chuckled. “I didn’t know you were so big on muggle religion,” he snarked, and Rose’s head shot up to give him a dirty look. He smirked before resuming his attentions, slipping two fingers into her opening without warning, causing her to throw her head back and let out a throaty moan.

He continued licking, sucking and kissing her, his fingers pumping in and out of her with reckless abandon until he felt her channel convulse around his fingers, her thighs tighten around his head and he heard her moan his name more deliciously than he ever thought possible.

Rose felt her hands go completely numb and struggled to regain control of her breathing, but found instead that she wanted him more now than she did only minutes ago. With great effort, she propped herself up on her elbows to look at him.

“Come here,” she said, still panting from her release.

He undid his trousers and dropped them, along with his boxers, allowing her to get a look at his long, hard length before crawling on top of her. Without wasting a minute, she grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, tasting herself on his tongue before rolling them over so she was on top of him.

Scorpius looked surprised to find her straddling his stomach, and she grinned, kissing him again as he positioned himself at her entrance.

“Wait,” he said. “Contraceptive charm.”

“I’ve been on the potion since I was fifteen,” she told him in between kisses. “We’re fine.”

He hesitated for a moment, but she shifted her hips to take in his entire length at once, and they both groaned at the feeling. Buried in her to the hilt, he continued kissing her for another moment before pulling back.

“You alright?” he asked.

Rose smirked and began to rock against him, causing him to moan. “Not a virgin, remember?”

One hand on her hip and one in her hair, he kissed her again, tasting the rum still on her tongue as he began to pump in and out of her.

“Merlin,” he groaned. “You feel— _amazing._ ”

Rose dug her fingernails into his chest, their movements becoming more frantic as they went, and after a few minutes he felt her tighten around him to the point where it was almost painful.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, her hair moving around wildly with their movements like an auburn halo of madness. He was positively entranced by her, the look of pleasure on her face, her eyes pinched shut, and how she bit into her swollen lower lip as she rode him.  

“Look at me,” he panted, and she obliged, golden eyes locking on grey. “Look at me when you come.”

After a few more strokes, he felt her convulsing walls around his length and she began to tremble uncontrollably, but held his gaze, moaning his name as she rode out her orgasm. He held on for only a second longer before feeling his own release spilling into her with an almost feral groan at the back of his throat. After a few more seconds, Rose collapsed on top of him, both of them sweaty, flushed and panting in the afterglow, and he brushed her hair away from her face.

“I can’t believe—we just did— _that_ ,” she almost laughed.

“Me neither,” he admitted, a grin creeping on his face. “Give me a minute to catch my breath and we’ll go again.”

She looked up at him. “Again?”

“It would appear, Weasley,” he said, “that you’re not as much of a prude as I thought you were.”

She laughed as he rolled over on top of her.

* * *

(January 1st – 5:38am – Leaky Cauldron, Room 31 – London)

The barely there sunlight of the dawn coming in through the window was what woke her, along with the pounding headache. Rose opened her eyes just a bit, trying to get her bearings, when she realized that this was _not_ her room.

She sat up abruptly, recognizing the room and the view of Diagon Alley, freshly coated in last night’s snowfall outside. Looking around, she saw the naked back of the wizard lying next to her, and she gasped when she recognized the messy, platinum blond hair. She clutched the sheet to her chest, running a hand through her messy curls.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck!_

“Malfoy!” she said, shaking the wizards shoulder. “Malfoy, wake up!”

The wizard stirred, but didn’t open his eyes. “Merlin, woman, what’s _wrong_?”

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” she said shrilly. “Look at yourself.”

Scorpius’ eyes snapped open, as if he had just realized he was lying naked in bed and Rose Weasley was beside him. He sat up, thankfully keeping the lower half of his body covered, rubbing his temple and looking thoroughly disoriented.

“What happened?” he asked, squinting in the light.

“I’ll tell you what happened. We got sloshed and had sex is what happened.” Rose covered her face with both hands, the events of the night before slowly returning to her memory with shocking clarity. “I’m never drinking rum again.”

“Mother of Merlin,” said Scorpius, also remembering everything.

“I can’t believe we did this.”

“Me neither.”

Rose took a deep breath. “What time is it?”

“Almost a quarter to six.”

“Merlin, Mum is going to kill me.”

“It’ll be fine,” said the wizard, gingerly rubbing his eyes.

Rose took another deep breath. “Okay, here’s the plan. When they ask, we say we were too drunk to Apparate and it was snowing too much to go out and call the Knight Bus, so we took up rooms for the night. No mention of er—our _other_ activities.”

“Do I look like I have a death wish?”

She scowled at him. “This never happened, Malfoy.”

The wizard looked at her for a moment before nodding. “Alright, alright. It never happened. We went out, got drunk and slept in separate rooms. Come on. If we hurry we might be able to make it back before they wake up.”

And, taking care to avoid the other’s gaze, they both dressed quickly before leaving the room, going down to the fortunately empty bar to find their cloaks before Apparating home.

* * *

(January 1st – 10:03am – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

Rose woke up a few hours later in the safety of her own bed, groaning as she once again remembered the night before. The good part was that she had had nice, hot, reckless sex that she had to admit was needed, in her case. The terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad part was that she had had sex with Scorpius _sodding_ Malfoy! Merlin’s pants, their parents were going to get _married_ , most likely. The whole thing was a nightmare.

 _It’ll be fine,_ she reminded herself, taking deep calming breaths. _We’ll just pretend nothing happened until enough time has passed that it all blows over. No one has to know._

Gingerly, she got up from the bed, grabbing her dressing gown and walking out. She found a much-appreciated pain potion on the bathroom sink, most likely left by Hermione, and drank it, hopping into the shower to rid herself of the smell of both the rum and Malfoy that she felt had seeped into her skin.

A few minutes and a fresh outfit later, she walked out of the bathroom feeling infinitely better, and heard her mother’s voice calling her from downstairs.

She found her mother, Draco standing in the living room, Hugo and Scorpius sitting on the couch in front of them.

_Bugger._

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” Draco remarked with a chuckle.

Rose scowled. “Happy New Year to you, too,” she said, taking the mercifully vacant seat next to Hugo on the couch, carefully avoiding Scorpius’ eye.

“When did you two get in?” asked Hermione.

“We came back a bit after three and you weren’t home,” Draco added.

Rose tried very hard to both stay calm and not look at Scorpius.

“Six-ish,” she answered.

“We were too drunk to Apparate home so we got rooms at the Leaky Cauldron,” Scorpius explained, being careful to emphasize that it was _rooms_ and not _room_. Rose nodded.

Hermione frowned. “You could’ve called the Knight Bus.”

“Well, it was snowing,” said Rose.

“And we didn’t want to leave the pub to call the Knight Bus out on the street,” added Scorpius.

“We thought it’d be best to just get rooms and sleep it off until we could Apparate.”

“Yep.”

Draco and Hermione looked doubtful for a moment, but Scorpius spoke again before they could say anything else.

“Weren’t you going to tell us something?

“Oh, of course!” said Hermione. “Well, er…”

Draco ran a hand through his hair. “We wanted to tell you…”

Hermione took a deep breath before speaking. “Now, I realize this might not exactly be news to you lot, from what Draco has told me,” her face broke into an uncontrollable grin. “But I wanted to tell you three first, either way.”

She held up her left hand, allowing them a look at the platinum and diamond engagement ring on her finger. The three teenagers smiled.

“Oi, you finally did it!” said Rose.

“Congratulations,” said Scorpius.

“You’re finally getting married, then?” asked Hugo.

“Yes,” said Draco, wrapping his arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “I finally got up the nerve to ask her last night at midnight, and she said yes.”

“Well, I could’ve told you that,” Scorpius smirked, and they all laughed.

“There’s something else,” Hermione said.

“Oh Merlin, are you _pregnant_ too?”

“No, Hugo,” the witch frowned. “I’m not pregnant… We’d like Scorpius and Rose to be our best man and maid of honor, respectively.”

The two beamed.

“I’d love to, Mum,” said Rose, getting up to hug her mother.

“I was almost scared you were going to ask Hugo,” said Scorpius, also embracing his father.

“With how he dented my car leaving the bakery last week?” asked Draco. “Fat chance.”

“You did _what_?” said Hermione, glaring at her son.

Hugo sheepishly ran a hand through his hair. “Er… I think I left the kettle on…” he muttered vaguely before running for the kitchen. “Congratulations!” he called back.

Hermione scowled. “The Weasley genes are entirely too strong in that one,” she said.

The other three laughed.


	2. Occupational Hazards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned:  
> The Trouble With Us – Chet Faker feat. Marcus Marr  
> Blossom – Milky Chance  
> Your Body Is A Weapon – The Wombats  
> Call Me Back - The Strokes  
> Do You – Spoon

Occupational Hazards

Or

_The Trouble With Us_

* * *

(January 9th – 11:05am – Hogwarts Express)

After hasty goodbyes and promises to write to Draco and Hermione on the crowded platform, Rose, Hugo and Scorpius had boarded the train with barely a minute to spare. The younger Weasley had run off almost immediately to find his mates, leaving Rose and Scorpius on their own for the first time since their rude awakening on New Year’s Day.

It wasn’t that she was avoiding him.

She just thought it best if—bugger, she _was_ avoiding him.

In all fairness, he’d been avoiding her, too.

The whole thing just made for an incredibly awkward situation, what with having to live in the same house and all.

Rose adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, avoiding her companion’s gaze as the train began to pick up speed. She tried to think of an excuse to leave as well, looking around at the passing of people crowding the train’s hallway in an attempt to secure a compartment, biting her lower lip, when salvation came in the form of a female voice calling her name.

“ _Rose_!”

She turned to find a petite witch pushing her way through a cluster of first years to reach her.

“Oi, move it!” said the newcomer to an offending boy who quickly jumped out of her way, allowing her to finally reach her friend. The witch had straight black hair almost to her elbows, a sharp fringe framing her dark brown eyes and long eyelashes. She was significantly shorter than Rose despite the fact that she was wearing heeled boots, and the latter had to bend down slightly to properly embrace her friend.

“Gaia!”

“Alright there, Malfoy?” said the witch, eyeing him over Rose’s shoulder.

“As well as ever, Davies,” said Scorpius. “How was your holiday?”

“Oh, it was _wonderful_ ,” Gaia gushed. “New York is lovely this time of year, and we got to spend New Year’s Eve in Times Square and watch the ball drop. I went to a few little underground shows in Soho, too, and not to mention all the American blokes, I swear, some were just positively _dishy_ and they couldn’t get enough of my accent. How about you lot? Did you have a good holiday?”

Both Rose and Scorpius hesitated to answer, and their eyes met for only a second before Rose intervened. “Have you seen Sicily anywhere?” she asked her friend.

Gaia frowned. “I haven’t, but Spencer Adams told me he saw her boarding the train near the prefects’ car.”

“We should go find her. I’ve got so much to tell you both,” said Rose, knowing this would distract Gaia enough to get her out of there. To Scorpius, she added: “Er… See you later.”

“Er—sure,” he replied. “I’m going to go see if I can find Albus.”

“Oh, er—Alright. Come on, Gaia.”

“’Later, Scorp!” called the other witch, allowing Rose to pull her off in the opposite direction. A few cars down, they spotted the shoulder-length golden hair and perennially tanned, slender figure belonging to Sicily van der Laar, understandably surrounded by five or six of her admirers. The two witches rolled their eyes.

“We should’ve just followed the scent of testosterone and good genetics,” said Gaia, rolling her eyes. “No wonder Spencer knew where to find her.”

“Who else would have such a perfect tan in the middle of January?” Rose chuckled. “Oi, Sicily!”

The witch turned, shooting them a stunning smile upon spotting them. “Oh! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. See you later, boys,” she called over her shoulder, approaching her friends.

“Yeah, we can see that,” said Rose, quirking an eyebrow towards the now disappointed throng of admirers. “Move along,” she told them. “You’re blocking the hallway.”

“Oh, that lot?” Sicily waved them off, now hugging her friends. “Just Hufflepuffs, curious about my holiday.”

“Curious my arse,” said Gaia. “They’re probably taking bets as to who you’ll accept a date with as we speak. Clueless fools. Come on, Juliet, let’s go find a compartment.”

* * *

( _Blossom -_ January 9th – 11:48am – Hogwarts Express)

The three witches walked back down the train, eventually finding an empty compartment to occupy. Placing their bags on the racks above, the three made themselves comfortable before Gaia rounded on Rose.

“Alright, spit it out.”

Rose frowned, playing with a lock of her hair. “Spit what out?”

“Don’t act coy,” said the brunette, narrowing her eyes. “I saw that look you two gave each other when I asked how your holiday went.”

“Who?” asked Sicily, looking confused.

“Well, Rose and Malfoy, of course,” explained Gaia.

“Malfoy?” echoed the blonde. After a moment, she remembered. “Of course! You lot had to spend the holiday together. Sweet Circe, how did _that_ go?”

“That’s precisely what I asked,” said Gaia. “And they both shared this look before Rose changed the subject and said we should go find you, leaving Scorpius to his own devices. So, out with it.”

Rose rolled her eyes, attempting to appear nonchalant. “There wasn’t any look.”

“You don’t fool me,” Gaia pointed an accusing finger. “There most certainly _was_ a look.”

“What kind of look?” asked Sicily, now looking very much interested.

“A look of guilt,” said Gaia. “Guilt and complicity. So, talk, Weasley.”

“Oi, did I tell you my mum and Draco got engaged?” said Rose, now desperate to change the subject. The two witches gasped.

“When exactly, would you have told us?” asked Sicily. “You completely dropped off the face of the earth after Christmas Day.”

Rose frowned. “Point taken.”

“But that’s wonderful!” said Gaia. “I’ve always liked the two of them together.”

Sicily nodded in agreement. “We have to send an owl congratulating them as soon as we get to Hogwarts.”

“That’s really great, Rose,” said Gaia sincerely. “But it still doesn’t explain why you and Scorpius looked at each other just now like you’d murdered someone and I was asking where you’d hidden the body.”

“You’re awfully insistent, for a witch who’s been seeing a bloke for months and refuses to tell anyone, _even her two best mates in the entire world_ , who he is,” said Rose pointedly.

Gaia blushed, but held her ground. “I told you lot, he and I aren’t ready to make things official yet.”

“But you saw him over holiday?”

“Well, _yes_ ,” the witch conceded. “He spent the holiday stateside as well and we met up a couple times.”

“We’ll figure out who he is eventually,” said Rose, now examining her nails.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling,” said Gaia. “Now, quit stalling and tell us.”

Rose scowled. “I was hoping you’d forgotten.”

Sicily rolled her eyes. “Just tell us, Rosie.”

Rose sighed, admitting defeat. “Alright, but you can’t tell anyone.”

“Please,” scoffed Sicily. “We’re your best mates. Who would we tell?”

Rose cocked her head in recognition of this fact, but took out her wand to cast a _Muffliato_ around their compartment in case of eavesdroppers. “Well, you know the MacMillan twins were throwing their annual party on New Year’s Eve, at the Leaky Cauldron.”

The two witches sitting across from her nodded. Connor and Finley had become infamous for their parties, and had been telling anyone who would listen of the New Year’s bash two weeks before term ended.

“Well, I obviously wasn’t planning on going, seeing as you lot were abroad and it really wasn’t my type of thing, but on Christmas Eve my cousins, Hugo and Scorpius started talking about it over dinner and somehow, Mum and Draco got it into their heads that it would be a good idea for me to go so Scorpius and I could bond or learn to get along—some bollocks like that.”

“ _What_?”

“I know!”

“Wait, but did you actually go?” asked Gaia. “Merlin’s wand—”

“Let her finish the story!” Sicily scolded.

“Well, yes. But Lily, Albus and James got sick and Aunt Ginny made them stay home, and then Jude Nott got tickets to the Weird Sister’s farewell show, so Hugo cancelled, too—”

This time it was Sicily who interrupted. “Wait, Hugo went to see the Weird Sisters? Oh, that must’ve been brilliant! I have to ask him—” but upon seeing the look Gaia was giving her, the witch promptly shut up and blushed. “Right, later. Go on, Rose.”

“Where was I? Right—Hugo cancelled, and I had this dreadful headache so I wasn’t feeling up to going either, besides the fact that I _really_ didn’t want to go alone with Scorpius, but then he got a letter from Astoria, his mother, locked himself in his room and wouldn’t speak to Draco or Mum. And well, I eventually got to talking to him and he explained a bit how their relationship is—even worse than mine with Dad, if you can imagine—and now she’s getting married to that wizard she left Draco for and wants Scorpius to come to the wedding—” the two witches raised eyebrows in surprise, and Rose shrugged. “And I sympathized. He just looked so miserable; I thought going to the party might cheer him up, so we went together.”

“And?”

“What happened?”

“Connor and Finley had bought all kinds of liquor, and Scorpius ordered rum but he tried to order me a butterbeer, so naturally I was a little offended—”

“Imagine that,” quipped Sicily, and Gaia chuckled.

She scowled but continued. “So I had rum as well and after a few shots, we asked the bartender to leave the bottle, and started talking. Eventually he asked me if I wanted to dance—” she blushed then, remembering how she and Scorpius had grinded on each other shamelessly.

“And did you?” asked Gaia.

Rose nodded.

“But was it like a regular type dance or did you go full-on _Dirty Dancing_?” asked Sicily.

“It was _Dirty Dancing_ meets _Step-Up_ ,” said Rose, now covering her eyes. The other two gasped.

“You were _grinding_?” asked Gaia, her eyes so wide that her long lashes blended into her fringe.

Rose nodded again before removing her hands from her flushed face. “And that’s not even the worst part!” she exclaimed, resting back on the seat.

“There’s _more_?” asked Sicily. “Merlin, my heart can’t take this.”

Rose took a deep breath. “Well, eventually they started the countdown to midnight, and we were still dancing—we were _so_ close—and I don’t even know how it happened, but he kissed me.”

 _“_ He _kissed_ you _?”_  

“At _midnight_?”

“On bloody New Year’s Eve?”

“Yes! And, Merlin, I’d _never_ been kissed like that… It was too much—” the witch was already blushing, and she was turning redder with every piece of information that she revealed. Gaia and Sicily were now stunned into silence, their eyes wide, so Rose continued her story before she became too embarrassed to carry on.

“I wasn’t thinking straight and I told him to come upstairs with me. Connor and Finley had rented out the entire inn as well, and they’d told us when we arrived that if either of us _got lucky_ , we could help ourselves to one of the rooms.”

The two witches looked at each other, then back at Rose.

“So we went up, and eventually found a room and we—well, we—”

“You _shagged_?” Gaia positively shrieked.

Rose nodded, once again covering her face with her hands.

“Merlin’s _pants!_ ”

“Holy hippogriffs!”

Had the situation not been so utterly mortifying, Rose might have found the astonishment on her friends’ faces comical. But as it were, she could go no further and after a few seconds of silence during which they all absorbed the information, it was Gaia who spoke.

“Well, when you think about it, it really isn’t that farfetched that the two of you would—you know,” said the brunette, looking at her friend.

“What?” asked Rose, looking incredulous.

“She’s right,” said Sicily. “When you think about it, all these years of competing at everything and constant bickering, taking the mickey out of the other at every chance you got… It was probably all just unresolved sexual tension. And shagging your long-time rival is just _hot_ , Rose.”

Rose let out a laugh in spite of herself.

“So, how was it?” asked Gaia.

“What?”

“Come off it,” said Sicily. “Your only other experience was with Aid—oh, sorry— _the Great Lord of the Arseholes_ —and no offense, but he wasn’t much, compared to rumored-sex-god Scorpius Malfoy. What was it like?”

Rose bit her lip before answering, looking out the window at the snowy, blurred countryside. “Honestly? It was absolutely brilliant. It was fun and reckless and _mindblowingly good_ ,” her blush deepened even further.

Her friends smirked. “I expected as much,” said Gaia.

“And what happened after?” asked Sicily.

“I guess we fell asleep eventually, because the next thing I knew, it was almost dawn and I had a massive hangover. We didn’t talk about it per se—just agreed that it never happened. We went home and Draco and Mum told us about their engagement that morning. We’ve sort of been avoiding each other ever since.”

“Hang on,” Gaia frowned. “Avoiding each other?”

“Gaia, our parents are getting _married_. We live together; we have to work together on account of being Heads… We have to interact entirely too much to actually acknowledge what happened. It’s best if we just avoid each other unless absolutely necessary until enough time has passed that it all blows over.”

“So you’re just going to each wallow in your individual awkwardness about the whole thing until you decide you can look each other in the face again?” scoffed Sicily.

“Look,” said Rose, “I’m sorry, but you just can’t look at a bloke the same way after his hands have been under your bra, in your knickers or worse—he’s seen you naked. This situation includes all three, so yes, I think it’s perfectly justified that we steer clear of each other for a while.”

Gaia nodded. “Yes, that’s all very good, darling, but what about the fact that, as you so correctly mentioned just a second ago, you have to interact almost constantly? It doesn’t seem to be very compatible with that plan.”

“No,” Rose sighed, running a hand through her curls. “It certainly isn’t.”

* * *

( _Your Body Is A Weapon -_ January 9th – 2:04pm – Hogwarts Express)

“Checkmate.”

“ _Bugger._ ”

Scorpius rested back against the seat in the compartment he shared with Albus, who had just beaten him at Wizard’s Chess. He ran a hand through his hair.

“What’s going on with you?” asked Albus.

“Nothing,” said Scorpius, now restoring the chess pieces to their original position to begin another game.

“That’s the fourth time I’ve won in the past hour and a half, mate,” Albus said matter-of-factly. “And we both know I’m not nearly as good at chess as you are. So, what’s bothering you?”

Scorpius sighed, fiddling with the pawn he held between his slender fingers. “You just might kill me if I tell you.”

“Nonsense,” scoffed Albus. “You’re my best mate; I couldn’t kill you if I wanted to. Bad publicity.”

Scorpius smirked. “Well, _you_ may be above murder, but I’m sure _she_ won’t be if I tell you.”

“‘She’?” echoed Albus. “This is about a bird?”

“Not just any bird.”

“Oh,” the wizards bright green eyes widened in understanding. “This is about _the_ bird.”

“The one and only,” deadpanned Scorpius, looking out the window.

“What’s happened with Rose?”

“Promise you won’t hit me?”

Albus smirked. “That bad?”

“Remember the MacMillan’s party?”

“You mean the one I missed because my mother is a paranoid lunatic who thought I was on my deathbed with pneumonia?” asked the wizard, his voice laced with bitterness.

“That’s the one.”

“How could I forget?”

“Well—you know Hugo bailed on us and went to see the Weird Sisters that night,” Scorpius began.

“Yeah, Lily mentioned something about that. It was just the two of you, then?”

Scorpius nodded. “There was—an _obscene_ amount of liquor—we both had drunk our weight in rum and one thing led to another and well, we shagged.”

For a moment, Albus was stunned into silence. After a minute: “You _shagged_ my _cousin_?”

Scorpius grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

The dark-haired wizard took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair—indulging in a habit that seemed to run very deep in the Potter genes. “It’s fine—hell, you’ve fancied her since we were eleven, despite the fact that almost every heterosexual witch above fourth year would give up her wand for a month just to shag you. I think you’ve made your noble intentions quite clear,” he chuckled. “And you said you weren’t making any progress with her.”

“I’m not.”

“Right. Forgive me for considering that “ _shagging the bird you’ve fancied since before girls stopped being gross_ ” falls under ‘progress’.”

“Under normal circumstances, it would,” said Scorpius. “But since then, she’s wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.”

Albus frowned. “She’s avoiding you?”

Scorpius nodded. “Not that I blame her, of course—drunkenly shagging your rival of nearly seven years isn’t exactly a regular occurrence one can just brush off.”

“What happened after?”

“She woke me up, panicking because it was almost six and we had to explain our absence to Dad and Hermione,” Scorpius explained. “We never even properly talked about it—she said ‘it never happened’ and I couldn’t very well argue with her, so we just got dressed and went home.

“And what, you haven’t spoken since?”

“Only enough so that Dad and Hermione wouldn’t suspect anything—I’d even be up for a row at this point, it would mean an actual conversation with the witch!”

Albus’ frown deepened and his brow furrowed. “But don’t you two have to work together?”

“Oh, naturally. Merlin only knows how we’ll manage that, seeing as she won’t stay alone with me for more than thirty seconds.”

Albus looked as though he might say something more, but just then, the compartment door opened to admit the three missing seventh year Slytherin boys, each carrying an armful of sweets from the trolley.

“We’ve been up and down this bloody train for an hour trying to find you,” said Eldrige Scott—better known as Scottie—a scowl on his freckled face.

“We got _you_ Bertie Botts—” Declan Porter pointed at Albus, tossing him the box. “And—oi, Coop, have you got Malfoy’s Chocolate Frogs?”

Landon Cooper, a short, slender fellow with sandy blonde hair, nodded from the seat he had taken, tossing Scorpius three of the sweets. “Five galleons, three sickles for the lot, that and Al’s box,” he said.

“And let me guess,” Albus said, already reaching for his pockets in search of coins. “You want us to cough up.”

“You always were a miserable old goblin, Cooper,” sniggered Scorpius, his mood lifted by the chocolate.

“How was your holiday?” asked Albus of the three new arrivals.

“Mine was alright,” Declan shrugged. “I went to New York for a few days with my folks—caught a couple shows in Soho and the Ball Drop as well.”

“No seeing your mystery lady this holiday?” asked Scottie, wiggling his brows.

Declan scowled. “As a matter of fact, I saw her in New York.”

“Right,” Cooper snorted. “I’m starting to believe Declan’s bird isn’t even _real_.”

“You’re such a prat, Coop.”

“I’m serious,” he defended. “Why else haven’t we met her?”

“You’ll meet her when she and I decide we want other people to know,” Declan said. “And besides—”

Scorpius tuned out the others, opening a Chocolate Frog. He looked at the card that came in the package and saw an eighteen-year-old Hermione Granger beaming up at him, practically identical to her daughter—the witch who drove him mad with longing and yet wanted nothing to do with him at the moment—except for the chocolate shade of her curly hair, so different from Rose’s dark auburn tresses. He sighed and was brought out of his reverie by Scottie’s voice calling his name.

“What?”

“Someone’s distracted,” smirked the other wizard. “I asked if you had a good holiday.”

Scorpius shrugged, once again stealing a glance at the Chocolate Frog card. “As far as they go.”

* * *

(Three weeks later)

* * *

 

( _Call Me Back -_ January 30th – 6:52pm – Heads’ Office - Hogwarts)

“Professors Flitwick and Longbottom are still working to repair the damage caused by the Venomous Tentacula on the staircases between the second and third floor in the east wing, so be sure to inform your Houses that that route is closed until they can finish sorting it out,” Rose was saying to the crowd of prefects before her, checking the list she held in her hand. “I think that’s everything...”

“Oh, one more thing,” Scorpius cut in, and the witch turned to look at him.

“Yes?”

“I was just informed by Professor Stronghold that this weekend is the year’s first Hogsmeade trip,” Scorpius told the prefects. “Access to the village will be opened at seven in the morning, and closed at six in the afternoon, both Saturday and Sunday. Any student to violate curfew or permits to visit Hogsmeade will have twenty points deducted from their House, as well as four detentions, per offense.”

“Right,” said Rose. “Any questions?”

When none of the prefects raised their hands: “Wonderful, meeting adjourned. You can all head down to supper.”

The next couple minutes were filled with the noise and chatter of the departing prefects, and Rose turned her back to the door while gathering her things. It wasn’t until a minute after the last prefect had left that she noticed she wasn’t alone. She turned her head to find Scorpius leaning against a bookcase, his bag slung over his shoulder.

She swallowed, but attempted to appear casual. “Did you need anything?”

“Not particularly,” he shrugged. “Just thought it’d be nice to walk down to the Great Hall together.”

“Oh,” Rose hesitated. “I don’t think—”

“Rose, come off it,” said the wizard. “It’s been weeks; can’t we just have a normal conversation? Please?”

She frowned, but nodded after a moment. “You’re right. The sooner we get on with it, the sooner things can return to normal.”

“If you want, I can be a offensive dick and you can insult me,” he proposed with a smirk.

She smiled. “That certainly _would_ feel more normal.” She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and walked towards the door. “Shall we?”

He followed her out the office and they made their way down the empty corridor towards the staircase.

“I’m sorry to say it,” he told her. “But I was even starting to miss your scornful remarks and witty comebacks.”

“Were you?” she asked, a grin creeping onto her face.

“Merlin, yes. No one else at this school seems to know quite how to verbally abuse me the way you do.”

She laughed. “You’re an imbecile, Malfoy.”

“See? You just made my point for me.”

They reached the staircase and began their descent. After a moment, she spoke. “Er—how have you been?”

“Alright, I suppose,” he shrugged. “These past weeks have been rather uneventful, to be honest. I got a proper invitation to Astoria’s wedding, though.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, the Harpy’s getting married on Easter Sunday, or so it would appear. I stand by what I said, though. There’s no way in hell I’m going to _that_.”

Rose nodded. “If that’s what you think is best, I completely support your decision. Hell, I did the same thing, when Dad got married.”

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“How’ve you been?”

Rose shrugged. “Alright, I guess. These last weeks have been pretty dull for me, too. I can’t wait for Quidditch to start.”

“Me neither,” Scorpius grinned. “It’ll be fun, beating your self-righteous arse to the Snitch.”

She laughed. “Fat chance that’ll happen. In the four years I’ve been playing, you’ve only managed to beat me to the Snitch half the time.”

“Those odds are fifty-fifty, Rosie. And I’ll have you know that this is my year.”

“Oh, bugger off,” she rolled her eyes and after a moment, smiled. This did not go unnoticed by the wizard.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head and blushed only slightly. “I was just thinking that—just now, we were getting along. And it didn’t seem as difficult as it used to be. I guess Mum was right—going out on New Year’s did help, even if not in the way any of us expected.”

Scorpius mulled over her words for a minute before speaking. “I guess you’re right. Of course, you’re much less infuriating when you’re _not_ trying to poison me with bacon over the breakfast table.”

“Hey, you had it coming.”

They reached the Great Hall then, and Rose spotted her friends at the Gryffindor table. She was just about to go join them when the Head Boy’s voice called her back.

“Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you be going down to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

She nodded. “I think so, yes. Why?”

He shrugged. “If you want, we can have a drink at the Three Broomsticks, maybe lunch.”

She pondered his words for a moment. “I’d like that,” she said finally, the corners of her mouth turning upwards. “I’ll meet you there on Saturday around noon, yeah?”

“Alright then,” he grinned, walking away towards the Slytherin table.

Rose had not gone five steps before a voice called her name. Turning, she found herself face to face with Francesca Zabini. The witch was an inch or so shorter than her—when you didn’t take the extra inch afforded by Rose’s hair into account—with hooded green eyes that matched her Slytherin tie. She had wavy, dark hair, an olive complexion and a very prominent, thoroughly Italian nose, which was more or less her most characteristic feature.

She and Rose had never once gotten along, but unlike with Scorpius, this relationship was less of a friendly rivalry and more of a strong, deep-seated hatred from the very first moment on the Hogwarts Express when Rose had bumped into Francesca bullying Gaia. Rose had instantly been angered and defended the witch, and after Francesca realized who she was, she tried to strike up a friendship with the now-Head Girl, who refused.

And from that moment on, they were enemies. Francesca called her Bush-head—on account of her hair—and Rose called her Porkchops—on account of her nose—and they despised each other on principle.

And Rose thought there was something quite comforting in mutual hatred. It was rather like the universe balancing itself out.

“Weasley.”

“Evening, Zabini,” said Rose, her tone cool. “What can I do for you?”

“Funny seeing you here.”

“Well, it _is_ supper time. Not all of us can survive on unicorn blood and the tears of orphaned children, you see.”

“Charming, Bush-head, really,” Francesca smirked. “Did you come up with that just now? Or did you write it down to have handy?”

“No, I just think the sight of you is rather inspiring,” Rose shot back. “I mean, just by looking at you, I can come up with enough insults to last a lifetime.”

“Why were you talking with Scorpius just now?” asked the Slytherin, cutting straight to the point.

Rose smirked. _Of course._ “Wouldn’t you love to know?”

“Answer the question.”

“Frankly, I don’t see how that’s any of your business, seeing as he and you aren’t involved anymore.”

“Be that as it may, I think I have a right to know.”

“No, Porkchops, you really don’t,” Rose shot her a condescending look, aggravated as she was. “As much as you fancy yourself the evil overlord of all things Scorpius, you’re nothing more than his ex.”

“Don’t cross me, Bush-head. It won’t end well for you,” the witch sneered.

Rose’s eyes narrowed. “Try what you will. I’m not afraid of you. But trust me on this: the fact that Scorpius can’t stand you has nothing to do with me. You managed that all on your own. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to eat before the sight of you ruins my appetite. Good night.”

And with that, Rose walked away towards her friends. She took a seat beside Sicily, who watched with Gaia as Francesca headed back to the Slytherin table with a scowl on her face.

“What was that about?” asked the blonde.

“Porkchops saw me talking with Malfoy and wanted to stick her snout where it doesn’t belong,” Rose explained, heaping food onto her plate.

“Malfoy?” echoed her two friends.

Rose nodded, taking a bite of steak. “After the prefects meeting, he was waiting for me. He said he just wanted to walk down with me and have a normal conversation, so I agreed. We’ve been treading on eggshells around each other long enough. It was nice to talk without all the awkwardness lingering in the air.”

“So you two are proper friends now?”

Rose shrugged. “I don’t really know. He asked me to have a drink with him in Hogsmeade this weekend, though.”

“ _What?_ ” Gaia exclaimed, choking on a sip of pumpkin juice and startling a group of first years nearby.

“Gaia, love, not in front of the children,” said Sicily, who had nonetheless dropped her fork with a clatter due to the surprise. Turning to Rose: “He asked you on a date?”

“Merlin, no,” said the ginger. After a sip of pumpkin juice: “I don’t think so. He said we’d meet there and have a drink, maybe lunch. Those exact words. I mean, if he wanted it to be a date, he would have said so, right?”

The other two thought about it for a moment. “I suppose so,” said Sicily after a moment.

“Still,” said Gaia, helping herself to more mashed potatoes. “It’s clearly more than enough to have Zabini jealous. She’ll be watching your every move this weekend, mark my words.”

“Please,” scoffed Rose. “She doesn’t scare me. Zabini’s all bark and no bite. And if she _does_ try something, I can take her.”

“If you plan on dueling her, let me know so I can bring my camera,” said Sicily.

“A Weasley dueling a Zabini? That probably hasn’t been seen since the War,” Gaia smirked. “And we know who came out winning that time.”

“Imagine the headlines, though,” said Sicily, gesturing dramatically. “ _Rose Weasley: Pork-slayer._ It’s got a nice ring to it, no?”

Gaia laughed.

“You two are idiots,” said Rose, but also managed a laugh.

* * *

(February 3rd –9:57am – 7th year Girls Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower – Hogwarts)

“Has anyone seen my blue gloves?” Rose asked of her roommates. Fully dressed, she was currently in the middle of searching her trunk for the aforementioned gloves, to no avail.

“Didn’t you lend them to Audrey a couple days ago?” asked Sicily from in front of the mirror, an arsenal of cosmetics strewn before her.

Audrey Carrigan looked up from the window seat, where she was tying the laces of her boots. “Yes, but I gave them to you yesterday, Rose, remember?”

Rose frowned. “You didn’t happen to see where I put them?”

Audrey shook her head. “Have you asked Gaia?”

Rose nodded. “Just before she left, actually. Said she hadn’t seen them.”

Just then, Becca Phillips, their fifth roommate, emerged from the bathroom, dressed and drying her ashy brown hair with a towel. “Did she run off again to see that mystery bloke of hers?” asked the witch.

Sicily smirked. “Apparently, she was meeting him for an early breakfast in Hogsmeade.”

“Really?” asked Becca.

“Probably capitalizing on the fact that almost no one goes down to the village before ten o’clock,” said Audrey, adjusting her wire-rimmed spectacles.

“I’m not sure,” the blonde shrugged. “She was very cryptic about the whole thing, as usual.”

“I can’t believe she still won’t tell us who he is,” said Rose.

“Well, I only know she _had_ a date because I practically hexed it out of her,” said Sicily. “You know how she is.”

“I expect we’ll find out who the mystery bloke is eventually, one way or another,” Audrey shrugged. “It’s hardly easy, keeping secrets at Hogwarts. News travels fast.”

“Oi, Becca, have _you_ seen my blue gloves, by any chance?” asked Rose.

“Oh, yeah,” said the brunette, now searching in her own trunk for a jumper. “They were on the vanity.”

“Oh, here they are!” said Sicily, holding up one of Rose’s gloves. From where she stood, Rose could see the other one peeking out from underneath Sicily’s overflowing makeup bag.

Rose walked over to the vanity, taking her gloves. “Blimey, Sicily, they were right in front of you.”

Sicily spotted her friend’s scowl through the mirror and grinned apologetically. “Sorry, Rosie.”

“It’s alright,” Rose brushed her off, tossing the gloves on top of her coat, which lay on her bed. “Are you ready? I need the mirror.”

“Of course, help yourself,” said the blonde, giving the waves in her hair one final fluff before getting up. “I’ll get dressed while you finish and we’ll go down together, yeah?”

“Sure,” said the Head Girl, taking a seat at the vanity.

After a minute, Audrey and Becca departed to Hogsmeade together, bidding the two witches farewell and closing the door behind them.

“I’m fairly certain they’re dating by now,” said Sicily.

“Audrey and Becca?” asked Rose.

“Who else?”

Rose shook her head. “I don’t think so. Wasn’t Becca seeing that Ravenclaw girl? You know, the tall, Asian bird in our Charms class… I think she’s Jackie Sterling’s sister.”

“Jade?” asked Sicily, searching her trunk for an outfit. “No, they broke up months ago.”

“Did they?”

The blonde nodded. “Plus, everyone knows Audrey’s fancied Becca for eons, she’s just shy about it, I guess.”

“Really? I can never keep up with the gossip around here.”

“Let’s hope you don’t learn how,” Sicily grinned. “Otherwise you’ll have no use for me.”

“Nonsense. You’re more than just my gossip go-to girl, you’re also my star Chaser,” said the Head Girl, waving Sicily’s claims away with a swat of her hand. “And I fully intend to bring home the Cup this year, so I can’t very well just get rid of you.

“I didn’t realize you valued our friendship which such selflessness,” Sicily deadpanned.

While Sicily dressed, Rose applied a light touch of makeup and finished by applying liberal amounts of Sleak-Eazy’s Hair Potion on her hair, setting her curls with a wave of her wand. She checked and double checked for any imperfections, nervously smoothing her outfit.

“You’re _so_ going on a date with Scorpius.”

Rose turned to find Sicily leaning against the bedpost of her four-poster, a satisfied smirk on the blonde’s face. She ignored the comment, making her way to the bed and quickly donning her coat, grabbing her gloves and scarf to put on later.

“I’m taking your silence as acknowledgement of the fact that you _are_ in fact, going on a date with Scorpius Malfoy.”

“I am not,” the witch insisted as she left the dormitory with her friend. “We’re just going out for a drink.”

“Forgive me, darling, but ‘going out for a drink’ constitutes a date in almost everyone’s book.”

“Not in mine.”

Sicily snorted. “Please. I would actually believe that if not for the fact that your relationship with _the Unmentionable Ravenclaw Git_ began in exactly the same fashion: a casual drink in the Three Broomsticks.”

This incontestable fact had eluded Rose, and she stopped in her tracks. “…Bugger. All the same, it’s _Malfoy_ … I can’t actually date him.”

“So you _have_ considered it!”

Rose took a minute to contemplate this as the two crossed the nearly deserted common room and exited the portrait hole. Had she really? “I suppose so,” she admitted finally. “It would be rather hard not to consider all the possible implications after we—you know…”

“Including a possible scenario in which you and Scorpius started dating,” Sicily pointed out.

“Well, yes,” said Rose, now donning her gloves and scarf. “And I don’t know—I mean, if it was your mum marrying his dad—wouldn’t you find it a little awkward to date him?”

Sicily shrugged, also wrapping her scarf around her slender neck. “I don’t know—probably not.”

“No?”

Sicily shook her head. “I mean, it’s not as if the two of you are actually related, is it? Sure, your mum is marrying his dad, but they only started seeing each other a couple years ago—you didn’t exactly grow up together as brother and sister.”

“Well, that’s true,” Rose acquiesced. “But we’re not exactly well matched, either. He’s Slytherin, pureblood as they come. Sure, he’s probably the only bloke at this school who can match me in a battle of wits, but we were rather horrid to each other when we were younger, and despite the fact that we’ve worked together constantly for months, we’ve only just started to get along for more than a few minutes at a time.”

“You know what other couple we know used to be exactly like that, legend has it?”

“What? Who?”

Sicily quirked an eyebrow at her clueless friend. “You know, for such a bright witch, you’re a bit thick sometimes.”

Rose scowled as the two arrived on the bottom floor and headed towards the open doors. “Who are you talking about?”

“Your mother and Draco, silly.”

Rose blinked, now realizing the obvious similarities, but shook her head. “You’re barking.”

“It really is astonishing that cliché dictates that since _I’m_ the blonde, I should be rather dim on occasion, and yet here you are, in all your ginger glory, completely in denial,” said Sicily, covering her blonde waves with a knit cap before the two walked out into the snow.

* * *

( _Do You_ \- February 3rd – 12:01pm – The Three Broomsticks – Hogsmeade)

She found him sitting at the bar when she arrived at the pub.

His coat was perched on the back of his stool and he leaned forward, chatting amicably with Rosalind, Madam Rosemerta’s twenty-year-old daughter, who was tending getting butterbeers for some customers. He turned his head and spotted her almost immediately in the half-empty pub; Hogwarts students tended to frequent the pub in the afternoon before heading back up to the school. As she approached, he hopped off the stool to greet her, helping her onto her own stool a moment later. Rose began removing her hat, coat, gloves and scarf.

“Cold much?” asked Scorpius, a half-grin creeping onto his face.

“Hush,” Rose admonished. “I wasn’t about to risk freezing to death on the walk down here.”

“We should order something to warm you up,” said the Head Boy with a playful grin. “Firewhisky?”

Rose snorted. “Blimey, Malfoy, it’s barely noon. How about we get some food first?”

“As you wish,” Scorpius shrugged, waving Rosalind over.

“Hello Rose!” the witch greeted her, a bounce in her blonde ringlets. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Hello, Rosalind,” Rose smiled. “Did you have a good holiday?”

“Oh, wonderful. Yourself?”

Rose nodded. “It was alright.”

“What can I get you two?”

“What are you serving for lunch?” asked Scorpius.

“We’ve got meat stew, and also Shepherd’s pie.”

“I’ll have the meat stew,” said Rose.

“Shepherd’s pie for me,” said Scorpius. “And two butterbeers.”

“One of each it is,” said Rosalind with a smile, jotting down their orders. “Coming right up.”

Their food came after a few moments, and after a while, the conversation strayed to Quidditch— as it so often did with them.

“Scherbatsky broke his arm in three places and dislocated his shoulder—idiot fell off his broom drunk a week before term started, and the Healers told him no Quidditch for three months—” Scorpius was saying. “I have to start training my second string as soon as Hooch let’s me book the pitch.”

“Scherbatsky is such an idiot,” Rose laughed. “Why did he even get on the broom if he was drunk?”

“Apparently he was trying to show off and impress Maggie Weinberger…” Scorpius replied.  “Scherbatsky is not only an idiot, apparently—he’s an idiot with lousy taste in women.”

“Well, his name is Egbert, what did you expect?”

Scorpius laughed. “Fair point. When do you lot start training?”

“As soon as Hooch lets me book the pitch,” said Rose with a smirk.

“Don’t start hogging the pitch away from me, Weasley.”

“I make no such promises,” said the witch with a sly grin. “Besides, you know Chang is the one who loves to monopolize the pitch.”

“Bloody Hufflepuffs. ‘Generosity of spirit’ and ‘value fair play’ my arse. Chang is about as willing to share the pitch equally as I am to dye my hair hot pink and dance around the Great Hall in women’s underwear.”

Rose laughed. “And where do you leave Rickett?”

“Aw, Rickett’s not so bad. A lot less insufferable than that ex of yours, as far as Ravenclaws go.”

“You do not want to have the ‘whose ex is worse than whose’ conversation with me, Malfoy. It won’t end well for you.”

He scowled and Rose laughed.

“Rickett is an absolute pig,” she went on. “He asked me out a few times last year and since I said no—because _I already had a boyfriend_ —he proceeded to schedule practices for his team on all my free evenings for two weeks. Worse lost we’ve had against Ravenclaw in years.”

“I remember that match. Three-hundred and seventy points to fifty. Absolutely _brutal_. So poetic,” Scorpius mused, and laughed when Rose gave him a dirty look.

“My Chasers were stiff as a board from lack of practice... I hate Rickett,” Rose said bitterly.

“Don’t we all?” Scorpius grinned. “That being said though, please don’t monopolize the pitch. I need at least one ally against the other two pompous gits that call themselves Captains.”

“I make no such promises,” Rose grinned mischievously.

“I suppose that’s the best I’ll get.”

“Too right. My Chasers need the frequent training hours or they get rusty, and I don’t want to repeat that fiasco against Ravenclaw.”

“Hey, I’ve got Chasers too!” Scorpius protested indignantly.

“You haven’t got Sicily, though,” Rose pointed out.

“She’s the best Chaser on your team, I’ll give you that,” said the wizard.

“You’re telling me,” Rose snorted. “I was so surprised the first time I watched her play.”

“You were?”

Rose nodded. “Were _you_ expecting her to play the way she does?”

Scorpius chuckled. “No. She’s _vicious_. I remember the first time we played you lot after Sicily joined the team, Brancovich was crying for an hour in the showers afterwards because she’d rounded on him after fouling her. And it didn’t hurt that she’s about a head taller than him.”

Rose laughed. “That’s Sicily for you. It’s so funny.”

“Is it?”

Rose nodded again. “See, out of the three of us—Gaia, Sicily and myself, that is—she’s always been the _girl_ , you know? I mean, Gaia spends her summers traipsing through Europe going to music festivals, sleeping in tents and seedy little inns and bartending when she runs out of cash. Not exactly Malibu Barbie, if you catch my meaning.”

Scorpius nodded, chewing away at his food, and Rose continued. “And I grew up with mostly uncles and male cousins and my brother, playing Quidditch all day and falling in the mud and not caring, climbing trees and tossing gnomes out of my Gran’s yard. But Sicily—this is a woman takes an hour and a half to get ready every morning, and I once witnessed her cry because she’d dropped her makeup bag and her favorite eye-shadow smashed into a billion tiny pieces. She’s blonde, charming and drop-dead-gorgeous, but she’ll steal the Quaffle back with her teeth if she has to and knock you off your broom for good measure.”

Scorpius laughed, then all of a sudden looked like something she had said had reminded him of something important. “What is it?” Rose asked.

“You won’t believe what I saw coming into the village,” he grinned.

“I never took you for a gossip, Malfoy,” she smirked.

“I’m not,” he defended, his grin turning quickly into a scowl. “I happened to catch something very interesting.”

“Oh?”

“You know my roommate, Declan Porter? Tall, dark hair, Muggleborn?”

Rose nodded. “His dad plays football professionally, no?”

“For Arsenal, yes,” Scorpius conceded. “But that’s not what I’m on about. See, Declan’s been seeing this bird for months, but he won’t tell us who she is. We’ve tried everything.”

Rose stayed focused on her stew and listened, but didn’t really process what he said until a moment later. “Oh, my Merlin.”

“But I came down early because I’d ordered a book at Flourish and Blotts and I wanted to see if it had come in,” Scorpius was saying, “and when I’m passing Honeydukes, I managed to catch a glimpse of Declan through the window display, and he had a witch on his arm. And lo-behold, it appears that my roommates mystery bird is none other than—”

“Gaia Davies,” Rose finished for him.

Scorpius blinked. “How did you know that?”

“She’s been seeing a bloke since last summer and she won’t tell a soul who he is either,” Rose explained. “All she would tell us is that he goes to Hogwarts and they met up at a music festival in Barcelona last summer and hit if off from there.”

“Yeah, Declan does that,” Scorpius said, taking a swig of butterbeer. “He travels a lot with his dad while on holiday, and when he’s not attending football matches, he’s at some festival or in some underground pub listening to a band no one else has ever heard of and somehow knowing every song.”

“That does sound familiar,” Rose smiled. “Gaia’s got this huge music collection at her house—she has a floor-to-ceiling bookcase all along one wall that’s packed with old vinyl records and CDs.”

“Sounds like they’re a good match, then,” Scorpius said. “I mean, one would never guess it, because Declan’s such a prat—” he laughed “—and tends to think he’s Merlin’s gift to women, while Gaia is this tiny little firecracker who doesn’t seem to take shite from anyone. Quite the pair, now I think of it.”

Rose nodded in agreement, finishing off her own butterbeer. Their food was long gone and Scorpius turned to her again. “What do you say, Weasley?”

“About what?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

“Have some firewhisky with me,” he said, his cool grey eyes on hers.

Rose’s eyes narrowed, but a grin crept its way onto her face all the same. “I’m not getting drunk with you again, Malfoy.”

“Who said anything about getting drunk?”

“I’m not drinking with you before two in the afternoon, _period_ ,” Rose scoffed, now grabbing her coat and scarf, and placing enough galleons on the table to pay for both their meals. “This one’s on me. Come on. Let’s go to Honeydukes.”

Scorpius grinned. “Are you trying to bribe me with sweets?”

“… Possibly. Is it working?”

“Definitely.”

* * *

 

(February 3rd – 2:16pm – Honeydukes – Hogsmeade)

Despite the fact that their shopping baskets were quite full as they stood in the queue to pay for their sweets, Rose realized she’d forgotten something. “Hang on. I’m running out of Chocolate Frogs, I’m going to get some.”

Scorpius cocked his head. “I didn’t know you liked Chocolate Frogs.”

“They’re my favorite,” Rose said, leaving Scorpius in the queue. With a cheeky grin, she turned back and added: “And I thought we’d already established that there are still a great many things you don’t know about me.”

As she walked away towards the display, Scorpius called after her. “Bring me some. They’re my favorite.”

She smiled widely at him, and returned a moment later with an armful of Chocolate Frogs for each of them. A few minutes later—during which Scorpius _insisted_ on paying for both their purchases, as she had paid for the meal—they both exited the shop, each carrying a heavy bag full of just about everything Honeydukes sold.

“Oh, hang on,” Scorpius said a moment later, patting the pockets of his coat. “I think I left my money bag inside. I’ll be right back, yeah?”

Rose nodded, and after he reentered the shop, she moved along the walkway a bit, admiring the window display in the recently opened Quality Quidditch Supplies, and then the display in Flourish and Blotts, before something she spotted made her turn back towards the little alleyway that separated the two shops. Her jaw dropped.

There in the alleyway, just a few meters away from her, was Scorpius.

Snogging Francesca Zabini.

The wizard had her pressed against the wall, one of his hands buried in her hair and the other on her waist, while the witch’s hands were around his neck. Rose stood there for a few seconds, absolutely stunned, until the two noticed they were being watched and broke apart, spotting her immediately.

“Whoops,” Scorpius smirked. “Got me.”

Francesca let out a little giggle that to Rose sounded like a rabbit being strangled to death. “I told you not to challenge me, Weasley.”

Rose paid her no attention, as her gaze was on Scorpius. “Be careful,” she said after a moment, her voice icy. “Wouldn’t want to catch anything, shagging _that_.”

She turned on her heel, not even stopping to gouge their reactions, though she heard Francesca’s indignant gasp as she walked away. With long, determined steps, she made her way up the street and out of Hogsmeade, following the small crowd heading back to the castle, ignoring the sting of unshed tears in her eyes.

The truth—which she’d been avoiding since they woke up in bed together, naked and hung-over—hit her like a herd of stampeding hippogriffs.

 _She fancied him._ Scorpius Malfoy. After nearly seven years of unceremoniously declared rivalry, of bickering, of fighting each other tooth-and-nail for the Snitch; after exactly thirteen hexes, forty-nine threats of bodily injury, twenty-one Quidditch matches, six-hundred and seventeen insults and one drunken one night stand, she’d actually grown to like the bastard. Not only that, she actually fancied him. Very much so.

_Shit. Bloody, buggering, sodding hell._

After what felt like barely a minute, she heard a voice calling her name.

“Rose!”

She refused to stop. _Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

“ _Rose,_ wait!”

She whipped around to find Scorpius running towards her, the bag from Honeydukes on his arm swinging with every step. “ _What_?” she all but screamed at him. “You here for another go? Humiliating me once wasn’t enough?”

He stopped barely a meter away from her, confusion etched into his pointy features. “What?”

“Oh, don’t act thick, Malfoy,” she spat. “It’s unbecoming. You know I saw you.”

Scorpius just looked at her, more confused than ever. “ _Saw_ me?”

“I saw you snogging Zabini just now and if you think for one second that I’m about to—”

“ _What?_ ” Scorpius repeated, now completely incredulous. “I wasn’t even _with_ Francesca, I haven’t seen her all day! I was in Honeydukes—blasted clerk insisted he didn’t _have_ my money bag—turns out it was in my back pocket all along and—”

“I fucking saw you!” Rose yelled, not even caring about the students who stopped to stare at them. “I _saw_ you snogging her in that alley beside Flourish and Blotts and you think I’m thick enough to just _believe_ whatever you say with that confused doe-eyed look on your pointy little face!”

“Rose, I don’t know what you saw but that most certainly wasn’t—”

He trailed off, looking at something—or rather someone, walking up towards them.

Francesca Zabini, laughing and walking arm in arm with… Well, with Scorpius.

“— _me_.”

The two Slytherins stopped dead in their tracks when they spotted Rose and Scorpius just ahead, sporting identical looks of shock. Even the other students heading up to the school stopped to look at not one but _two_ Scorpius Malfoys.

Finally, it was the Scorpius who stood in front of Rose who spoke.

“What in the ruddy _hell_ is going on here?”


	3. Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned:  
> The Chain – Fleetwood Mac  
> My Sweet Lord – George Harrison  
> Fooled Around and Fell In Love – Elvin Bishop  
> Cherry Bomb – The Runaways   
> Bring It On Home To Me – Sam Cooke  
> Dive – Ed Sheeran

 

Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang

Or

_The Chain_

* * *

 

(February 3rd – 4:23pm – Headmistress’ Office – Hogwarts)

An hour later in McGonagall’s office, the truth became clear.

After the first few seconds of initial shock wore off, there had been a small dispute as to _which_ Scorpius was the real one. A great deal of confusion and shouting had ensued—attracting more attention from the growing crowd of onlookers. The matter was finally settled by Rose, who decided to ask a simple question that only the real Scorpius would know—not the impostor—as she had told him the answer during their drunken adventure on New Year’s Eve, and no one else at Hogwarts except her brother and cousins knew this:

“What sport did I play before attending Hogwarts?”

The real Scorpius had answered in a heartbeat: “Football.”

The faux Scorpius and Francesca didn’t even have the chance to attempt to run for it, as the Head Boy and Girl disarmed them wordlessly while the two just stood there gawking. Evidently, they hadn’t expected to get caught. Wands pointed at their opponents backs; they handed off their purchases to a prefect who promised to drop them off at their dormitories, and walked up to the castle and McGonagall’s office without another word from any of them.

The Headmistress had returned from Hogsmeade merely an hour earlier, and after apologizing for the intrusion, the Heads informed her of what had transpired at the village. A picture of what exactly had been done became clear in the minutes that followed:

Francesca had stolen a dose of Polyjuice Potion from Professor Bates’ private stores and convinced a student—later known to be Tobias Parkinson, as he bubbled back to his regular self within the hour—to assume Scorpius’ appearance after summoning hairs from his head and creating a magical copy of his characteristic black coat.  They had spotted Scorpius and Rose entering Honeydukes and waited outside, casting a quick _Confundus_ to make Scorpius believe he had left his money bag in the candy shop, and therefore leaving Rose alone to discover them kissing in the alleyway a moment later.

“I never would have believed this!”

McGonagall was practically fuming as she shouted at Francesca and Tobias sitting in front of her desk, with Rose and Scorpius standing behind them. Rose was still very angry, as was Scorpius, so the two of them got a great deal of satisfaction, watching the two co-conspirators squirm under the elder witch’s outrage. She looked quite intimidating as she rounded on the pair, despite her old age—Rose guessed she was between ninety and hundred years old by now, but as magical folk tended to age slower than Muggles, she couldn’t be sure.

“Stealing a highly dangerous potion from the Potion Master’s private stores is bad enough, but using it to assume the appearance of another student—the Head Boy, no less— simply to provoke a fourth student!” the Headmistress admonished. “Not even any of your parents attempted a stunt like this in their time at this school—and _they_ were all sent to this office more times than I could count!”

At the mention of their fathers—Blaise Zabini and Andrus Parkinson (Pansy’s similarly pug-faced brother)—Francesca and Tobias looked even more humiliated, while Scorpius and Rose had identical fond smirks.

“Fifty points from Ravenclaw for agreeing to this travesty, Mr. Parkinson,” said McGonagall. “And you’ll be serving detention every Friday evening after supper from now until Easter holiday.”

“And another fifty points from Slytherin, Ms. Zabini,” McGonagall went on, and Francesca’s look of shame turned to one of indignation. “And you’ll be banned from all Hogsmeade visits until after Easter holiday, pending further evaluation.”

“Wha—”

“In addition,” McGonagall spoke over her, silencing her with a glare. “I’ll be writing to your fathers to inform them of your behavior.”

Tobias looked properly ashamed of himself and resigned to his punishment, but Francesca stood to challenge McGonagall. “You can’t do this!” she told the Headmistress with angry eyes, “I’m seventeen and—”

“And you are a student of this school!” McGonagall yelled over her, now positively furious at Francesca’s outburst. “And as such you will follow the rules established here or you will attend to the consequences. No matter what your age or how close you are to graduating, Ms. Zabini, if you continue to break the rules in such a careless way you _will_ be up for expulsion—more so if you are caught endangering or taking advantage of other students again. Are we clear?”

Francesca’s gaze turned stony. “Crystal.”

* * *

 

( _My Sweet Lord_ \- February 3rd – 4:58pm – Seventh Floor Corridor – Hogwarts)

Rose and Scorpius were dismissed from McGonagall’s office shortly afterwards, and he offered to walk her back to her dormitory. She accepted, and they walked back in silence for the better part of two minutes, until it was finally Rose who spoke.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” she said.

“It’s alright,” he shrugged. “I suppose I deserved it, considering what you thought I’d done.”

“All the same.” It was now her turn to shrug. “It wasn’t my place; you’re free to kiss whomever you fancy.”

“Well, I don’t fancy Porkchops, I can promise you that,” he said, and they both shared a short laugh.

“She’ll be out for our heads now, I imagine,” Rose remarked.

“I doubt it,” Scorpius shook his head. “I don’t think she’ll dare pull something else on us now. McGonagall’s going to have her watched closely, and Francesca’s not one for getting expelled.”

After a few moments, they approached the Fat Lady and Rose finally plucked up the courage to ask: “Er—Scorpius?”

“Yes, Rose?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You sort of just did,” he pointed out, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.

She rolled her eyes. “Something else.”

“Go ahead.”

She hoped he wouldn’t notice the faint blush on her cheeks as she posed the question. “When you asked me to meet up with you in Hogsmeade today, did you mean it as a date?”

A couple seconds’ silence followed before he answered. “Yes, I did. Does that bother you?”

She shook her head. “No—I guess not. I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.”

He nodded. “But you don’t want to try it again.”

“No, it’s not that,” she took a deep breath, ran a hand through her curls, and exhaled with force. _Might as well go for it, no time like the present_.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t fancy you—because, apparently, I do,” she told him. In response to his look of surprise: “Yeah, it caught me off guard as well, but I do fancy you. Circe only knows how that happened—I’m certainly not going to sit down and try to work out the specifics—but it happened, and now I suppose I have to deal with it, right?”

He nodded but said nothing, and she took that as her cue to continue.

“Now, I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that the fact that you were the one who kissed me on New Year’s—the one who insisted we start talking again and the one who asked me out—means that my feelings aren’t exactly unrequited—”

He shook his head.

“—but all the same, I feel very hesitant about all this. We haven’t exactly had the most stable of relationships, all these years, and not particularly after what happened between us,” another deep breath, “and our parents are getting married. If we were to try this right now, and for some reason it doesn’t work out, or ends badly or anything but _happily-ever-after_ , we’re still going to have to see each other and interact almost constantly, not just because of what goes on here, at Hogwarts, but because of them.”

He nodded again, his face showing perfect understanding of where she was going.

“I want to be sure first,” she said finally. “If we decide to try and have something—to let whatever _this_ is, become something more—I want us to be sure that, at the very least, it isn’t just a passing fancy that will most likely end in catastrophic failure, you know?”

He nodded once more. “I understand.”

She sighed in relief. Once again, she ran a hand through her curls. “Can we just—can we try to be friends first? And see where things go from there?”

He hesitated for a moment, mulling over her words, and finally nodded, an odd sort of calm in the depths of his cool grey eyes. “Yes, Rose. I think we can try and be friends, for now.”

“For now,” she repeated; a small smile on her face, which he returned. She looked to the portrait hole and back at him.

“I should go,” she said after a moment. “Sicily and Gaia are probably waiting for me. Maybe I’ll see you at supper?”

He nodded, hands in his pockets. “I’ll be there.”

She nodded, hesitated for a moment, and then very quickly walked up to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I had a lovely afternoon with you, all things considered,” she all but whispered.

“Me too,” he said, grinning. The spot on his cheek that her lips had touched felt hot.

And with that, she turned to the portrait hole.

“See you later, Scorp.”

“See you, Rosie.”

* * *

 

( _Fooled Around and Fell In Love -_ February 3rd – 5:21pm – Gryffindor 7th year Girls Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower – Hogwarts)

Rose entered the dormitory to find her two best friends sitting on Gaia’s bed, huddled over a shared copy of Witch Weekly. Audrey and Becca were nowhere to be seen, having probably not come up from the village yet. Gaia and Sicily, still dressed from the day’s events, looked up at the sound of the door, watching as Rose wordlessly walked to her own four-poster, tossed her coat, gloves and scarf onto her trunk and dropped down onto the bedspread at the foot of Gaia’s bed.

“Heard you had quite the afternoon,” said Gaia, working very hard to keep the smirk off her face.

“Everyone’s been talking about it,” said Sicily. “Freddie Higgins brought your stuff by.”

“It was eventful, to say the least,” said Rose.

“What happened?”

Rose began re-telling the events of her afternoon with extraneous detail—leaving out the part about knowing that Gaia and Declan Porter had been seeing each other—recounting everything up until when she and Scorpius were dismissed from McGonagall’s office.

“Serves the little bint right, in my opinion,” said Gaia, examining her nails.

Sicily nodded in agreement. “Polyjuice Potion? Who even comes up with that? And that Parkinson bloke is just the worst sort of person, agreeing to something like that.”

Rose sighed. “I’ve no idea. She’s barking mad, that one.”

“Did he say anything to you after leaving McGonagall’s office?” asked Gaia.

Rose nodded, sitting up and leaning back onto her palms. “He offered to walk me up. I apologized for yelling at him, and he told me not to worry about it. Then I asked him if—y’know—if he’d meant for today to be a date, and he said he did.”

“He did?” the other two echoed, looking only mildly surprised.

Rose nodded again. “I told him that as much as I’d like to and I know he would too, I’m not ready for us to just dive into something like that—we’re going to have to put up with each other rather frequently, even after graduation—I want to be sure it won’t end badly. So we agreed to stay friends for now, and see where things go.”

The other two looked stunned now.

“So, you’re saying you do fancy him,” Sicily said after a moment.

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” said the Head Girl.

“Wow,” said Gaia. “Finally owned up to it, then?”

“Hush,” said Rose, a smirk now gracing her features. “You’re one to talk.”

The brunette looked confused. “What are you on about?”

“I know who you’ve been seeing,” Rose told her.

Sicily looked at Rose. “What?”

Gaia blinked in surprise, but managed to keep her cool. “You’re bluffing.”

“Not at all,” said Rose. “Apparently, the two of you were spotted arm in arm in Honeydukes this morning.”

Gaia blanched but said nothing.

“It would appear,” Rose said to Sicily with a wicked grin. “That the wizard our beloved Gaia has been seeing is none other than Declan Porter.”

Sicily gasped.

“... Shite, you’re good,” said Gaia, a small smile of pride creeping onto her face.

“You’re kidding,” said Sicily, giving Gaia’s leg a playful shove. “He’s _dishy_. Why didn’t you tell us?”

Gaia shrugged, now looking a little embarrassed. “I don’t know. It’s been really great—we get along for the most part, and he has _great_ taste in music, he met my parents at New Year’s and I got to meet his—his dad loved me, by the way. I don’t know, I guess we didn’t want to jinx it by telling other people.”

The other two nodded in understanding.

“Now you _have_ to tell us everything,” Sicily grinned.

“What’s it been like?” asked Rose.

“Well, for starters,” Gaia smirked. “It’s rather _sexy_ —having a secret relationship.

The others laughed. “You naughty witch!”

* * *

 

(One month later)

* * *

 

( _Cherry Bomb -_ March 9th – 1:39pm – Quidditch Pitch – Hogwarts)

“Good afternoon, Hogwarts!”

The voice of the usual commentator, a Gryffindor fifth year named Frankie Jones, boomed across the pitch and nearly drowned out the cheers from the crowd.

“Welcome, welcome to the first Gryffindor – Slytherin match of the season! Expectations have been high since training started—particularly after it got out that Egbert Scherbatsky, Slytherin Beater, had to be replaced by Mylo Flint following Scherbatsky’s _grievous_ injury this past Christmas. No hard feelings, mate, firewhisky’s not for everyone.”

From the tunnel where the Gryffindor team was to fly out, Rose could hear the crowd laugh and Frankie allow himself a chuckle before continuing.

“Now, both teams started training very hard these past weeks in preparation, and more so after last week’s Ravenclaw – Hufflepuff match. Whoever wins today will have to surpass Hufflepuff’s score of two-hundred and forty points to move up to the top spot!”

After a few seconds later, Frankie began to announce the Slytherins.

“Cadwallader! Potter! Brancovich! Stone! Flint! Wood! Aaaaand _Malfoy!”_

The crowd erupted in both cheers and boos towards the Slytherin team and a few seconds, Rose heard him call out her team just before zooming out.

“Sterling! MacLaggen! Van der Laar! Phillips! Goldstein! Stretton! Aaaaand _Weasley!”_

She circled the pitch once, her dark red curls trailing in a ponytail behind her, before flying towards where Madam Hooch was hovering at the very center, face to face with Scorpius.

“I want a nice, _clean_ game,” the witch warned, looking around at the rest of the players. “Or there’ll be hell to pay. Captains, shake hands.”

Rose shook Scorpius’ hand, a smirk on her face. “Scared, Malfoy?”

“You wish,” he shot back, the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

* * *

 

( _Cherry Bomb_ \- March 9th – 2:25pm – Quidditch Pitch – Hogwarts)

“We are forty-five minutes in, folks and the score is tied at fifty points—after a few close shots from Gryffindor Chaser Sicily van der Laar and one particularly _spectacular_ save from Slytherin Keeper Violet Wood—Slytherin is in possession! Albus Potter swerves to avoid a Bludger, passes to Brancovich—pass to Cadwallader—back to Potter, he shoots… _Saved!_ By Gryffindor Keeper, Andy Stretton—this kid can catch, mate, and he’s only fourteen!”

Rose took a second to watch as Andy caught the Quaffle with barely the tips of his fingers, his legs gripping his broom, before passing it to Jackie Sterling, who was hovering nearby.

“He passes to Sterling, she makes her way back—passes to Van der Laar, _she_ rolls to avoid a Bludger from Stone—Phillips sends it back—almost hits Potter, but he dodges it! Gryffindor still in possession—MacLaggen now approaches the Slytherin posts—passes to van der Laar, _where in the hell did she even come from!?_ Van der Laar aims, she shoots— _SCORE!_ Gryffindor now leads sixty to fifty!”

The crowd roared as Sicily pumped her fist in the air to celebrate her shot. Rose made to circle the pitch again, her eyes ever watching for the slightest glint of gold that meant the Snitch was nearby. Near the other end of the pitch, Scorpius was on a similar expedition.

“Gryffindor Beater Hollie Goldstein sends a Bludger soaring towards the Slytherin Chasers—some _arm_ that girl has got, Merlin—and she’s got a hit! Brancovich takes a Bludger to the thigh—that looked like it hurt, but he shakes it off! He’s dropped the Quaffle though—Gryffindor back in possession as MacLaggen zooms towards the posts! He swerves to avoid Potter—passes to Sterling—she shoots—Aaaand it’s a save, Wood comes to the rescue and the score is still sixty-fifty with Gryffindor in the lead!”

A sudden movement caught Frankie’s attention: “Whoa, Weasley takes off like a bullet—she’s definitely spotted _something_ —Malfoy in close pursuit—she’s almost there—she swerves to avoid a Bludger—probably Flint’s doing—but she’s lost it! Weasley has lost the Snitch! Blimey, she looks angry—almost heard her curse from way over here. Slytherin currently in possession, folks, Malcolm Brancovich halfway across the pitch with the Quaffle—he passes to Cadwallader—to Potter—Brancovich—Potter—Cadwallader—Potter— _SCORE!_ Slytherin ties the score sixty-sixty and it looks like these teams are just warming up!”

* * *

 

( _Cherry Bomb_ \- March 9th – 3:44pm – Quidditch Pitch – Hogwarts)

“Blimey, is she okay? Penalty to Gryffindor, folks, after Chaser Nora Cadwallader collides with Jackie Sterling and almost knocks her clean off her broom. MacLaggen approaches the Slytherin hoops to take the penalty shot—Violet Wood in position—he shoots—SCORE! Gryffindor once again takes the lead, one-ninety to one-eighty and the game continues. Both teams have now passed Ravenclaw’s score from last week—”

Rose was growing increasingly more frustrated as the match went on and she had yet to get another sighting of the elusive Snitch. In the following minutes, Slytherin scored twice before Sicily managed to tie the score again.

“—Slytherin in possession—Potter dodges MacLaggen—passes to Cadwallader—Cadwallader makes her way to the Gryffindor posts—she’s almost there—but she takes a _nasty_ Bludger to the arm from Duncan Phillips, probably retaliatory as she nearly killed his girlfriend a while back—Gryffindor now in possession—Van der Laar making her way back across the pitch with the Slytherins in close pursuit—BUT LOOK! Scorpius Malfoy’s got a sighting—he’s making his way towards the other end of the pitch—Weasley’s spotted it as well—she’s a bit closer—they’re neck and neck—the entire game’s stopped to watch them duke it out—Malfoy stretches, he reaches for it but Weasley’s just slightly ahead of him—she reaches— _and she’s got it!_ Rose Weasley has caught the Snitch! The final score is three-hundred and fifty points to two-hundred— _GRYFFINDOR WINS!”_

* * *

 

(March 9th – 4:53pm – Quidditch pitch – Hogwarts)

Almost an hour later, Rose congratulated her team as they made to leave the locker rooms.

“Great game, you lot,” she told them.

“That was _some_ hit you got on Brancovich, Hollie,” Conrad MacLaggen, a sixth year, was saying to the younger witch, who was barely fifteen and, standing barely five feet tall, was probably the tiniest Beater in the last fifty or sixty years.

“He really grinds my gears,” Hollie defended. “You know he asked me to Hogsmeade a couple weeks ago, and all he wanted to talk about was Quidditch! He wanted to spy on our tactics, the slimy git.”

“Well, now he’s got a nice, colorful, bruised thigh to remember you by,” Duncan, the other Beater, quipped. “That’ll show him not to mess with you.”

“You’re one to talk,” Hollie smirked. “What about Cadwallader’s broken arm?”

“I was defending my girlfriend’s honor!” Duncan argued. “It’s not my fault Nora’s got weak bones.”

“ _Weak bones_?” echoed Andy, equal parts of disbelief and amusement on his face.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Rose deadpanned and the others laughed.

“We should head up,” said Jackie. “I heard there’s going to be a celebration in the common room.”

“You _heard_?” Andy said pointedly, shutting his locker. “Or rather ‘ _my no-good friends smuggled in liquor and now everyone is going to get sloshed in the common room_ ’?”

Jackie scowled, taking Duncan’s hand as they all left the locker room. “Like being a fourth year will stop you from drinking along with the rest of us.”

“Well, of course not, Jackie, I’m not thick…”

Rose spotted Scorpius waiting outside for her. “You lot go ahead,” she told the team. “I’ll be up in a bit.”

The team responded with hooting and catcalling as she approached the Head Boy, before they left to walk up to the castle. Scorpius’ arms were crossed over his chest, but he smirked at her.

“I figured you’d try to drown yourself in the shower, after that loss,” she said, trying not to smile and failing.

He let out a reluctant chuckle. “No, but I think Flint and Brancovich were giving it an honest go.”

“I never thought Slytherins were about that ‘suicide pact’ kind of life,” Rose said.

“Well, you know we take house pride _very_ seriously,” Scorpius replied. “And thanks to your lot, that pride took quite a hit today.”

“No hard feelings?” Rose asked, smiling sheepishly.

Scorpius held his resolve for another few seconds before sighing. “I can’t stay angry at you—it’s so annoying.”

Rose rolled her eyes but grinned. “Come on; let’s walk up together, yeah?”

He nodded, following her out of the pitch.

* * *

 

(March 20th – 11:22am – Department of International Magical Cooperation – Ministry of Magic, London)

Rose smoothed out non-existent wrinkles in her skirt, nervously watching the clock on the wall. Nearly six months ago, she had sent out an application to intern at the Ministry in the Department of International Magical Cooperation after graduation. She had received a reply the week before, stating that she had been pre-selected to move on to the next stage: an interview with the Head of the Department. After obtaining permission from McGonagall to be absent for the day, she’d Floo-ed over to the Ministry Atrium before heading down to her interview.

She nervously bit her lip, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap when a familiar voice made her look up.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Scorpius stood a couple meters away from her, leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his grey suit—the exact color of his eyes.

She blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“I have an interview with the Head of the Department for an internship after graduation,” he said. Eyeing her attire, he asked: “What are you doing here?”

Rose shot him a half-smile. “The same thing as you, apparently.”

She motioned to the chair beside hers and he took a seat. “I had no idea you were applying as well,” he said.

“Makes sense though,” she remarked. When he looked confused, she elaborated: “I mean, we have similar interests, it makes sense that we both want this job.”

He nodded, and after a moment: “I don’t want us to compete for this, too.”

Rose shrugged. “We probably won’t have to.”

“Oh?” The wizard looked at her quizzically, and Rose noticed that he was jiggling his right leg wildly—probably attempting to calm his nerves. She rested her hand on his knee and he stilled. Grey eyes met gold, and she gave him a small smile.

“Scorp, look at us. I’m the daughter of war-heroine slash _Brightest Witch of her Age_ , House-Elf Rights pioneer, Wizengamot member and current Head of Magical Law-Enforcement Hermione Granger. You’re the son of war-hero, redeemed former-Death Eater, former Auror and current second-in-command of Magical Law-Enforcement Draco Malfoy, who singlehandedly filled a third of the cells in Azkaban in the post-war cleanup. My guess is they want both of us.”

He mulled over her words for a moment before nodding in agreement. “We just have to get through this interview—together, yeah?”

He offered her his hand and she took it, lacing her fingers through his. “Together.”

Just then, a rather plump secretary who looked to be in her early thirties approached them, and they both stood. “Mr. Spiegelman will see you now.”

Rose and Scorpius looked confused. “Er—which of us?” asked the latter.

The witch turned and eyed them over the rim of her spectacles. “Well, both of you, naturally.”

The two teenagers shared one quick look before standing and following her down a hallway. A gold plaque on the very last door read _Wolfgang Spiegelman, Head of Department - International Magical Cooperation_. The witch ushered them in a moment later, closing the door behind them and leaving them to face an older wizard, looking to be in his early fifties, with dark hair and a strong build. He approached them.

“You must be Scorpius,” said the wizard—Mr. Spiegelman—shaking Scorpius’ hand. “Pleasure to meet you at last.”

“Likewise, sir.”

He turned to Rose, also shaking her hand. “And you must be Rose. I went to Hogwarts with one of your uncles.”

“It’s a pleasure, sir,” she replied with a smile. “If you don’t mind my asking—which one?”

Spiegelman chuckled. “You’ve got quite a bunch of them, I understand. I was in school with Charlie, though I was friendly with Bill as well. After graduation, Charlie went to Romania to chase after dragons, and I headed off for a more quiet life here at the Ministry. We still have the occasional drink sometimes, though. Have a seat,” he told them, motioning to the chairs in front of his desk.

* * *

 

( _Bring It On Home To Me_ – March 20th – 12:36pm – Atrium – Ministry of Magic)

An hour later, Scorpius and Rose exited the lift in the Ministry Atrium and found themselves face to face with Draco and Hermione. Rose was the first to lunge forward, embracing her mother which such force that she nearly toppled over. Scorpius followed, also embracing his father with a grin on his face.

“Fancy seeing you lot here,” Rose grinned.

Draco shrugged. “A little owl told us you two had an interview today. We thought we’d take you both to lunch—how does that sound?”

The two teenagers smiled and nodded. “McGonagall probably isn’t expecting us back yet,” Scorpius pointed out. “I think we’ve got time.”

“Brilliant,” Hermione beamed at them. “Come along, I know a great place.”

A while later, the four of them were being seated in a small restaurant a few blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron. The place specialized in Italian food—Rose and Hermione’s favorite. The four talked about how Rose and Scorpius’ classes were going until the server came to take their order. When the server came back with their food, the two teenagers’ mouths watered at the sight of the heaping, steaming plates of pasta that had been set in front of them.

“This is amazing,” Scorpius said, tasting his raviolis. “How did you find this place?”

“Well, actually,” Hermione began, a light blush tinting her cheeks as she took a bite of her risotto. “This is where Draco brought me on our first date.”

“Nice, Malfoy,” Rose grinned, and Scorpius sniggered when Draco rolled his eyes. “Very smooth.”

“Well, we’ve worked together more than twenty years,” Draco said. “I learned very early on that Granger functions best on a full stomach and her mood improves significantly with Italian food.”

“ _’Early on’_?” asked Scorpius, cocking an eyebrow at the two adults.

“There was this one time—” Hermione began, looking to Draco. “We must’ve been around twenty-four or twenty-five—we’d just started at DMLE, and there was this case, about a seventeen-year-old witch fresh out of Hogwarts named Lucy Selwyn.”

“Her parents—old purebloods—had roped her into a marriage contract with a man that was twice her age—without her consent or knowledge, as she was underage when the contract was drawn up,” Draco explained.

“While _she_ had wanted to marry her boyfriend from Hogwarts—a muggleborn, which her parents completely opposed,” Hermione went on. “And when she couldn’t find anyone else to help her, she came to DMLE. Friedbert—he was our boss back then—almost turned her away, but I convinced him to let us take it.”

“You practically got on your knees and begged him for the case,” Draco smirked. Hermione scowled at him, and the two teenagers chuckled as they ate. “And then you talked me into helping you.”

“I didn’t exactly hear you complaining,” the witch remarked.

Draco shrugged. “Having been roped into a marriage contract myself, I sympathized. Anyway—we’d been holed up in Hermione’s flat, buried up to our eyeballs in legislation and old court records—trying to find a loophole that got her out of it.”

“We hadn’t slept in three days,” Hermione said with an almost nostalgic chuckle. “I went as far back as the sixteenth century in the archives and took everything home with me—trying to find some record of a case that would help us.”

“Eventually we ran out of food—well, if you can count the crackers and canned tuna we’d been surviving on as food—and when I went to get us more butterbeers from the fridge, I spotted the number for an Italian take-away place.”

“Imagine my surprise when I walk into my kitchen and see Draco-sodding-Malfoy on the phone, ordering enough Italian food to feed a small army,” Hermione laughed.

“But it worked,” Draco said. “We found a loophole barely three hours after the food came.”

“You found something?” Rose asked.

“More than something,” Draco grinned, taking a sip of butterbeer. “Tell them, love.”

“We found a notary record from 1815,” the witch explained. “A witch had been similarly roped into a marriage contract while she and the wizard in question were both underage, by both sets of parents.”

“And what did they do to get out of it?” asked Scorpius.

“The witch in question had payed back the money that the wizard’s parents had come up with as a dowry—essentially buying herself out of the contract and thereby dissolving it,” Draco said. “Now, in that old case, the contract had stipulated that the witch had to earn the money herself. It couldn’t be gifted, inherited or loaned from any third party—”

“—But in Lucy Selwyn’s contract, there was no stipulation whatsoever to regulate where she could or could not get the money from,” Hermione went on. “She’d inherited quite a bit of gold from her grandmother when she’d turned seventeen, so she used that to pay off the debt, buy herself out and dissolve the contract.”

“She and her muggleborn boyfriend got married a month later and invited us to the wedding,” Draco finished. “It was one of the first cases we worked together.”

Rose smiled. “That’s pretty amazing.”

“Do you know what happened to them after that?” asked Scorpius.

“Well, they had kids a few years after,” Hermione said. “I think they’re still in Hogwarts—the girl must be about your age.”

The two teenagers looked at each other. “What was their surname?” asked Rose.

“Carrigan,” Draco replied.

Scorpius looked at Rose as it dawned on them both.

Rose smiled. “One of my roommates—Audrey Carrigan—she mentioned once that her dad was muggleborn and her mother from and old pureblood family that disowned her for marrying him. She has a brother too, he’s in third year.”

“That would be them,” Hermione smiled.

“Wow,” said Scorpius. “All those years rooming together and you never knew.”

Rose shook her head. “I never thought much of it. Audrey never mentioned that bit about her mother being forced into a marriage contract.”

“Wait a minute,” Draco frowned as if just remembering something. “We’ve been sitting here for an hour and we haven’t talked about how your interview went. How was old Wolfie Spiegelman?”

“He was alright,” Rose shrugged. “Apparently he went to Hogwarts with Uncle Charlie.”

Hermione nodded. “Of course, neither of them will tell you, but Wolfie’s wife Myrna dated Charlie for a few years when they were at Hogwarts.”

“No way,” Rose laughed. Hermione nodded.

“And how did they end up together?” asked Scorpius.

“Well, apparently when Charlie left for Romania, Wolfie—his best mate—and Myrna—his girlfriend—found a shoulder to cry on in each other,” Hermione explained. “Apparently the whole thing led to a massive fallout until Wolfie’s first son was born and he wanted Charlie to be godfather. They’re not as close as they were in their youth, but they’re still good friends.”

“I thought he was alright,” Rose said. “And he had nothing but praise for the both of us.”

“Did he?” asked Draco, a proud grin etched on his face. “And did he mention what the internship would consist in?”

Scorpius was the one to answer, as Rose was currently chewing on a bite of _pasta al pesto_. “They’ve already begun plans for the next Quidditch World Cup—International Magical Cooperation is joining up with Magical Games and Sports to put together a team to scout locations for the next Cup, beginning in September.”

“There are only a few spots,” Rose went on, “And the interns who do best will be hired by the Department at the end of the year.”

“That sounds amazing!” Hermione gushed. “So you’ll be travelling quite a bit.”

“That’s if we get it, Mum,” Rose pointed out.

“Which you will,” Draco replied, eyeing them confidently as he called over the waiter to order pudding for all of them. “Both of you.”

* * *

 

(March 25th – 8:58am – Potions Laboratory – Hogwarts)

Rose stood in the hall outside the habitual Potions classroom, idly chatting with Gaia as the rest of the seventh years began to queue up behind them. They were due to start their N.E.W.T. practical exam that day; since most advanced potions took upwards of a month to brew properly, their progress would be continuously evaluated until the final presentation with a Ministry-approved examiner on the last week of May.

N.E.W.T. level Potions was one of their smallest classes—just eight students total— and the two of them, along with Oliver Statham, were the only Gryffindors present. After a few moments, the tall, heavily built Professor Bates opened the door to the classroom, ushering them inside.

“We’ll be working in pairs from here on out. You’ll have two weeks for research and to acquire the rarer ingredients, and then we’ll begin to work on the potions themselves,” Bates said in his thick Scottish accent. He brought out a small piece of parchment and read aloud, pointing to their assigned work-stations as he went: “Here are the names of the teams, as well as the four main potions you should be able to successfully brew by now.”

“Starting from the back: Oliver Statham and Francesca Zabini have Veritaserum. Anika Devon and Leo Goldstein have Amortentia. Gaia Davies and Ronan Nichols have Felix Felicis—”

Rose sighed just before Bates called out the inevitable.

“And Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy have Polyjuice Potion.”

Gaia had practically rammed her elbow into Rose’s side at Bates’ words, but Rose didn’t have to turn to know that Francesca was shooting her a very dirty look. She headed to the front of the room to join Scorpius. The wizard shot her the tiniest smirk and she rolled her eyes.

“Let’s see if you’re smirking next time someone steals your hair for Polyjuice,” she muttered and he chuckled under his breath, clearing his throat a moment later when Bates shot him a look from the front of the room.

“Now,” the elder wizard went on. “Understanding the complexities and the demanding nature of this task, you all will be granted twenty-four hour access to this room, as well as the library and the store cupboard, so that you have all you need to complete your potion, though some of the more rare ingredients are not in store, so you’ll have to order them from the Apothecary. _However_ , this room in particular will be warded so that only the eight of you, myself and McGonagall will be able to enter when it is not being used for class. As an added precaution, only the owners of each particular cauldron will be able to tamper with the potion, so there’s no point in trying to sabotage someone else’s brew—not only will you be unsuccessful, but I, Professor McGonagall and the Ministry examiner will all be aware of who made the attempt.”

He paused then, and shot a very pointed look at Francesca, who blushed, before continuing: “The store cupboard will also be warded—all this to maintain security and ensure that everyone abides to the rules. Understood?”

They all nodded. “Wonderful. Let’s get to work!”

Rose and Scorpius immediately got to work searching their texts for the recipe, realizing within the first minute of their search that Polyjuice Potion wasn’t listed in any of their books. When they pointed this out to Bates, the older wizard chuckled.

“Naturally,” he said. “You’ll have to look in the Restricted Section for that.”

“Let me guess,” Rose smirked. “ _Moste Potente Potions?_ ”

“I see your mother told you that story, Miss Weasley,” Bates grinned, now writing them a note that would allow them to remove the text from the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library. “It’s no secret that she was rather successful in her first attempt to brew this potion—and she was only a second year!”

Rose smiled rather proudly before Bates continued, turning to Scorpius, handing him the note. “And it’s no secret either that your father was one of Severus Snape’s most talented students! A natural Potioneer if I ever heard of one. Now—it seems to me as if the both of you have inherited your parents’ talents—this one should prove to be a nice challenge for you, no?”

* * *

 

( _Dive_ \- March 25th – 9:54am – Library’s Restricted Section – Hogwarts)

“Here it is.”

Rose stopped in her perusal of the shelves to walk over to where Scorpius was bringing down a very large, very old volume bound in leather. On the spine, peeling silver letters read _MOSTE POTENTE POTIONS._ Setting the large book down on the table, the two perused the pages until they found the recipe for Polyjuice Potion.

“Let’s see,” Scorpius said. “Blimey—Leeches, powdered bicorn horn, knotgrass…”

“The lacewing flies have to stew for _three weeks?_ ” Rose gaped.

“And the fluxweed has to be picked at the full moon.”

“Merlin’s _wand_ …”

“Hermione brewed this successfully when she was _twelve?”_

“I have no idea what they put in _her_ pumpkin juice, but she certainly never put it in mine,” Rose said, and Scorpius laughed. “This definitely won’t be easy. We should see if we can find another reference book, just in case.”

“Rather ironic, us getting Polyjuice, don’t you think?” Scorpius remarked as the two began searching the shelves once more.

“A bit,” Rose granted. Smirking: “Better us than Porkchops, though.”

“Merlin, yes,” Scorpius agreed. “I’m still thankful she didn’t get Amortentia, either. The last thing I need is Francesca to have access to the world’s most powerful love potion.”

Rose laughed. “Too right. I can just imagine you reciting sonnets in her honor for all of Hogwarts to hear.”

Scorpius shuddered, returning his attention to the books until curiosity struck him. “What does it smell like to you?”

Rose didn’t turn to look at him, as she was stretching on her toes to read the titles on one of the shelves. “What?”

“Amortentia. What do you smell?”

Rose recalled the first potions class in sixth year, when Bates had shown them samples of the four potions that they would be expected to be able to brew by the time they sat for their N.E.W.T.s. She moved on to the next shelf before answering. “I smell broom handle polish, new parchment, cinnamon and something else I haven’t quite pinned down…”

Even as she said it, Rose realized that the scent she hadn’t been able to identify when she’d been exposed to the potion was also tied to another, more recent memory: New Year’s Eve, their room at the Leaky Cauldron… She suddenly understood that the smell was Scorpius—his musky cologne and the fresh, almost minty smell of what she guessed was aftershave. Hoping he hadn’t noticed how she had blushed after giving her answer: “What about you?”

Scorpius thought about it for a moment. “I smell freshly brewed coffee, ink, old books… And something else. I’m not sure what it is—I’ve picked it up a few times here at Hogwarts, and a few times at home.”

She smiled a bit at how he said ‘ _home_ ’. “Oh?”

He nodded, avoiding her gaze. “I—er—I think it’s you. Your shampoo or something.”

She felt the heat of her blush invade her cheeks. “What does it smell like?”

“A bit like lavender… And vanilla, definitely vanilla.”

Rose tried to keep her tone nonchalant, but her heart was pounding a mile a minute. “My shampoo has lavender, and the vanilla could be my body lotion.” After a pause: “Er—about that last bit—the smell I haven’t been able to pin down. Just now, I thought about it and I think it’s you as well. I caught it the night we—you know—at New Year’s. A bit woodsy, musky, and something distinctly minty and fresh.”

“My cologne, probably, and my aftershave is mint-scented,” Scorpius said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Mystery solved,” Rose said softly, still blushing.

“Do you regret it?”

She looked at him then and saw that his grey eyes were watching her closely, and they were less than an arm’s length apart. “No,” she said sincerely. “I mean, I did at first. I thought it would make being around you the most awkward situation ever. But I don’t anymore—probably since I’ve owned up to my feelings.”

He nodded in understanding. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

He took a deep breath, seating himself on the tabletop in front of the shelves before speaking. “I’ve fancied you since we were in first year. Since I met Al on the train and you were with him. I was hooked on you from that moment onwards.”

She could only stare at him, her golden eyes wide.

“Of course, you completely hated me from that point on as well—and I won’t lie, you were a bit of a prig and I couldn’t stand you at times, but for the most part, it’s always been you. Every other bird—including Francesca, all of them—was just a half-arsed attempt at getting over you,” he said, sighing. “To kiss you that night, to be able to hold you and feel you, to touch you and hear you moan my name… That was quite honestly the most exhilarating night of my short life.”

For a moment, Rose said nothing. After all, what could she say? She stepped in front of him, between his legs, resting her hands on his shoulders and studied his face, the corners of her mouth turning upwards in the smallest of smiles.

“I had no idea,” she said finally, now looking down at his green and silver tie and the Head Boy badge pinned on his robes. He tentatively brought his hands to rest on her hips, but she didn’t push him off as he expected—she actually found she liked the way his touch felt.

Scorpius shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly showing it either—riling you up was and still is too much fun.”

She scowled at him and he laughed. “See what I mean?”

Reluctantly, she laughed as well. After a moment, she looked him in the eye. “I’m glad that night happened,” she told him. “I don’t regret a single second of it.”

He smiled at her, and slowly, she brought her arms up around his shoulders and embraced him, pressing her much smaller form into his frame. His response was immediate, his strong arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close, and he buried his face into her hair, breathing in the sweet, flowery scent of her shampoo. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his own intoxicating smell, and sighed with contentment.

“You smell good,” she said after a few moments.

Rose felt the low rumble of his chuckle against her cheek as he answered. “So do you.”

* * *

 

(April 3rd – 1:04pm – the Great Hall – Hogwarts)

Rose walked into the Great Hall with Scorpius, coming from the library where the two had been studying together. Ironically enough, the two had signed up for the same N.E.W.T. level classes at the start of sixth year: Potions, Charms, Ancient Runes, Transfiguration, History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Rose was helping Scorpius study Charms, and the wizard was helping her study Transfiguration, as each had gotten O’s on the O.W.L. of the subject the other had most trouble with and N.E.W.T.s were fast approaching. Telling him she’d see him later, she took a seat near the head of the Gryffindor table and was joined less than a minute later by Gaia and Sicily, who were just coming back from double Herbology.

“Longbottom sends his love,” Sicily told her. “I swear, there’s not one class where he doesn’t lament the fact that you don’t take Herbology anymore.”

Rose chuckled. “Neville used to help us gnome the garden at Gran’s when we were all kids,” she told her two friends. “And he’d give us Caramel Cauldrons when Mum and Aunt Ginny weren’t looking.”

The other two smiled, serving food onto their plates. After a few more minutes of idle chit-chat, Rose noticed that a group of Hufflepuff girls she thought might be sixth years were watching her carefully. When she pointed this out to Gaia and Sicily, the former almost rolled her eyes.

“You’re telling me you don’t know why they’re staring at you?” asked the brunette. Rose shook her head.

Sicily sighed. “You really are completely oblivious sometimes… They’re staring because you and Scorpius are all anyone talks about lately—the ultimate gossip topic.”

Rose blinked. “What?”

Gaia nodded, swallowing a bite of her food before answering. “For the past two weeks I’ve had to sit with Camilla Edgecombe in Muggle Studies and all she does is ask me if the two of you are dating.”

“Which we aren’t,” Rose cut in.

“Yes, but it looks like it,” Sicily shrugged. “I mean, you lot have been openly at each other’s throats for years—now you get along and you study together and you’ve been seen in Hogsmeade—it’s only natural people talk, considering how gossip-hungry this school is and how notorious the two of you are thanks to your families.”

Rose shook her head in disbelief. “Honestly, people need to get lives around here.”

Gaia chuckled. “They really do. But it’s good that you two are the center of gossip—it keeps the attention away from Declan and I.”

Sicily laughed and Rose scowled.

* * *

 

(April 7th – 8:29am - Gryffindor 7th year Girls Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower – Hogwarts)

Rose woke on her birthday to the sound of her alarm clock ringing relentlessly. Pulling back the curtains of her four-poster, she practically slammed her hand down on the offending gadget. Squinting in the light of the early morning, she had only a second to get her bearings before her roommates practically pounced on her.

“ _Happy birthday!”_

She allowed them all hugs, blowing out the candle on the frosted cupcake that Becca had no doubt nicked from the kitchens the night before, before turning to the mountain of presents piled at the foot of her bed. She had received a new makeup bag from Sicily, a vintage vinyl Beatles record from Gaia, a jumbo-box of Chocolate Cauldrons from Becca, a new set of quills from Audrey, a _Puddlemere United_ jersey from James, Albus and Lily, a new broom servicing kit from Hugo, a knit jumper from Ginny and Harry and a jar of homemade fudge and thirty galleons from her grandparents. Ron had sent her a new cloak, which she was reluctant to even open, though the fabric was quite exquisite.

She was in the middle of opening her present from Draco and Hermione—which turned out to be a gorgeous, leather-bound, expanded special edition of her favorite book— _Quidditch Through the Ages_ —when Sicily pointed out the flowers on her desk.

“I wonder who those are from,” said the blonde, a mischievous glint in her eye.

The flowers were absolutely lovely—an arrangement fresh daffodils and white roses. Rose immediately searched for a card, and found one buried in the very center of the bouquet, the penmanship instantly recognizable.

 _Meet me in the Entrance Hall after breakfast. We can go down to Hogsmeade together_ — _I’m not taking no for an answer, either._ _Happy birthday, Rosie._ — _S._

Trying not to blush, Rose tucked the card back into the flowers and stood to get her dressing gown. “You know perfectly well who they’re from,” she told Sicily with a grin as she walked to the loo. “Now, if you lot will excuse me, I’m going to get ready.”

“Where are you off to so early?” Audrey asked.

“It would appear,” Rose said, poking her head out from the door of the lavatory. “That I have a date after breakfast.”

The other four looked at each other after she closed the door with identical smiles. “I told you lot this would happen eventually,” said Gaia.

* * *

 

(April 7th – 10:23am – Great Hall – Hogwarts)

Rose was happily digging into her full English when she felt a hand come up behind her and ruffle her curls rather violently. She didn’t have to turn to know it would be Hugo.

“Oi!” she protested, patting down her hair and hoping he hadn’t done too much damage. Across from her, Gaia and Sicily were laughing.

“Don’t get your knickers in a wad—blimey, you turn eighteen _once_ and you’re already a cantankerous old lady,” her brother said, his bright blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I’m a cantankerous old lady at any age if you’re touching my hair,” Rose reminded him, pointing her fork at him menacingly. “And I wasn’t aware you could turn eighteen more than once.”

“I just came over to wish my only sister a happy birthday,” Hugo defended, a hand on his chest as though she had wounded him with her words. “And I’m honestly feeling very attacked right now.”

Rose rolled her eyes.

“Really, sis,” he amended, grinning at her. “Happy birthday. Did you like my present?”

Rose’s frown turned to a smile. “It was brilliant, thank you. I’ve been needing a new servicing kit.”

Just then, Lily came over from the Ravenclaw table to also wish Rose a happy birthday, leaning down to embrace the witch.

“What are your plans for today?” asked the ginger.

“What do you think?” Hugo snorted. “She’ll be down in Hogsmeade.”

“Only _you_ would be so lucky as to have your birthday fall on a Hogsmeade weekend,” Sicily piped in.

“Well, obviously you’re going down to the village,” Lily said. “I was just wondering if you had anything specific planned—maybe we could all get lunch together, the five of us, Scorp and Al.”

“That sounds great,” Rose said. “But, if I’m honest, I’m not really sure what I’ll be doing.”

Hugo and Lily looked confused before Gaia spoke. “Our Head Girl here has a date.”

The two looked at each other with identical smirks. “Let me guess,” said Lily. “The Head Boy?”

Rose blushed slightly, but ignored the question, and Hugo turned to the Slytherin table. “Oi, Malfoy!”

Rose could’ve died from embarrassment right there, but could only observe in sheer mortification, hoping people would be too preoccupied with breakfast to notice the exchange.

“Yes, Weasley?” Scorpius called back.

“Got any plans for lunch?”

Scorpius looked at Rose for a moment before one corner of his mouth turned upwards into a smirk. He shook his head.

“Brilliant. Three Broomsticks, two o’clock. Tell Al!”

“I can hear you, you know!” Albus called back in annoyance. The others laughed, and Hugo turned to a still-blushing Rose.

“Well, that’s settled,” said the younger wizard. “We’ll see you there, alright?”

The three Gryffindors agreed, as did Lily before she and Hugo returned to their friends. Rose made quick work of finishing her breakfast, grabbing her jumper as she stood and tucking her wand into the back pocket of her jeans.

“I’ll see you lot later,” she said to Gaia and Sicily.

“Have fun!” Sicily called back.

“Stay chaste!” said Gaia with a grin. Rose rolled her eyes and walked down the table and out of the Great Hall. A moment later, she spotted Scorpius leaning against a pillar, his hands in his pockets, waiting for her. She approached him and he immediately pulled her in for a hug, once again burying his face in her hair.

“Happy birthday,” he said, once he had pulled back a bit, though his hands were still around her waist and hers around his neck.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him. “Er—sorry about that back there.”

He shrugged, a small smile gracing his features. “No worries. I’d figured they might want to have lunch with you, so I didn’t plan anything on that front.”

Rose nodded, and noticed after a moment that he was looking over the top of her head to the doors to the Great Hall. “Everyone’s watching us, aren’t they?”

“Yep.”

Rose sighed and shook her eyes, though her eyes betrayed her slight amusement. “Come on,” she said, tugging on his arm. “There’s already enough gossip going around without our help.”

Scorpius chuckled, following her outside. “I had this idea that you might get less bossy with age, but no such luck.”

She snorted rather inelegantly. “Right, like you’ve become the picture of maturity and dignity since turning eighteen?”

“Too right I have,” Scorpius said. “Of course, I’ve had more practice than you—I’ve been eighteen for a good five months, whereas you’ve only had a couple hours.”

Rose rolled her eyes, but nonetheless reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his as the two walked across the lawn towards the gates.

* * *

 

( _Brandy (You’re A Fine Girl) –_ April 7th – 12:03pm – Flourish and Blotts – Hogsmeade)

“I can’t believe you’ve never read _Hogwarts, A History_!” Rose was saying, looking at Scorpius with disbelief.

“I never got around to it!” Scorpius defended.

“Does my mother know?” Rose asked, before quickly shaking her head. “Of course she doesn’t, she probably would’ve banned you from the house if she knew you hadn’t read her favorite book.”

“She would not!”

Rose clutched _Hogwarts, A History_ to her chest. “She would if she knew you were a heretic!”

“I can’t be the _only_ person who hasn’t read _Hogwarts, A History_.”

“Scorp, the only people who haven’t read _Hogwarts, A History_ are people who a) don’t know it exists, b) are muggles or c) died before it was first published! It’s a classic!”

“Alright, _fine,_ woman! I’ll read it!”

“Too right you will,” Rose said, still holding the copy she’d taken from the shelf. “I’m getting it for you.”

“You do realize,” Scorpius began, “that we came in here for the sole purpose of you picking out a book for your gift, and you are buying _me_ a book?”

Rose laughed. “Well, we got a bit carried away when I realized you were a _Hogwarts, A History_ -virgin.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes, following her deeper into the shop. “I’m never going to live this one down, am I?”

“Not in this lifetime,” Rose smirked, checking the volumes in Flourish And Blotts’ muggle literature section. “Have you ever read any of these?”

Scorpius nodded. “Dad’s been giving me muggle books to read since I can remember. I’m guessing he wanted to make sure I wouldn’t grow up like he did. Mostly just children’s books until I got a bit older; then he started giving me the classics and things from García Márquez, Dostoievski, Shakespeare, obviously, Nietzche, Kafka and Kundera. I read _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_ last summer and I loved it. Oh, and Jane Austen—though I suspect that was more Hermione’s influence.”

Rose looked impressed and smiled. “ _Pride and Prejudice_?”

“Naturally. I liked _Sense and Sensibility_ better, though.”

“ _Emma_ ’s always been my favorite of hers,” Rose mused, perusing the titles. She found _Anna Karenina,_ but it was out of reach. Pointing to it, she turned to Scorpius. “Could you?”

He brought it down for her. “I read this one last summer as well. It’s rather good.”

“I’ve never read it,” Rose lamented, looking over the cover and flipping to the first page. “Mum loves it though… I think I’ll take this one.”

Scorpius smiled. “Hand it over, then.”

She did, and he took _Hogwarts, A History_ from under her arm as well. Rose attempted to protest. “Oi!”

But Scorpius was already walking towards the register. “You’re not paying for anything on your birthday, Weasley. It’s indecent!”

* * *

 

(April 7th – 1:43pm – Main Street – Hogsmeade)

After making a stop in Honeydukes to replenish their now permanent stock of Chocolate Frogs that they kept in the Heads’ Office, the two stopped by Quality Quidditch Supplies, as Scorpius was running low on broom-handle polish, and Rose was telling him about the broom servicing kit Hugo had gotten her. After that, the both of them realized it was almost time to meet the others for lunch and, hand in hand, had started up the street towards the Three Broomsticks.

It was what Rose would call perfect weather: the sky a clear, bright blue, with only a cloud or two in sight; flowers just beginning to bloom in the gardens and by the roads. Birds were chirping, and the street was alive with the chatter of students enjoying the village for the day, as well as the usual shoppers and visitors. They were just a couple shops down from the pub, talking about an upcoming Quidditch match between Puddlemere United and the Wimbourne Wasps, when Rose heard her name called out in a voice she hadn’t heard in almost eight months.

“Rose!”

_Oh, hell no._

She turned, not wanting to believe her ears, but there he was. Tall as ever, dark hair flawlessly styled in a messy ‘I just got out of bed’ look, eyes as blue as the ocean itself, holding a bouquet of fresh, red roses: Aiden Corner was walking up the street, straight towards her.

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?”

The words had tumbled from her mouth before she could stop herself. Not even fully aware of what she was doing, she pulled her wand from her back pocket in record time and pointed it at his chin. He stopped a few feet from her, holding up his free hand as well as the one holding the flowers, and looking more than a bit frightened upon realizing that she was very, very angry. He looked over the top of her head and his fear turned to slight confusion upon seeing Scorpius—who was giving him the once over with a scowl to rival Rose’s.

“Er—happy birthday,” he said finally, looking at the witch.

“Thanks,” Rose said, her voice low and her tone very much controlled. Still not lowering her wand: “I asked what you’re doing here.”

“I thought you might be at least a bit happy to see me,” he tried.

“Oh, did you?” asked Rose. “Funny, I can’t imagine why you would come to such an unfathomably moronic conclusion.”

“Come on, Rose,” Aiden pleaded. “Just—lower your wand. I just want to talk.”

She hesitated, but eventually lowered her wand as Aiden lowered his hands, but didn’t put it away. “What do you want?”

“These are for you,” he said, handing her the roses.

Reluctantly, she took the bouquet. “I hate red roses.”

Aiden looked at a loss for words, but recovered quickly. “They remind me of you—I just couldn’t remember which color you like.”

“White.”

“Oh.”

Rose was growing more annoyed with every second. “You obviously didn’t take a transatlantic portkey just to give me a generic bouquet and wish me a happy birthday,” she said. “What do you want?”

Aiden took one tentative step forward, but Rose stepped back. He relented. “Rose, I want to apologize. I was a prick.”

She snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

Aiden sighed. “Alright, yes, I was an arse. I know I didn’t treat you right, and I’m sorry for how I ended things. It was rash and impulsive… I want to take it all back. I want to work things out—even if I’m in New York and you choose to be here.”

Rose blinked. One second passed, then another, and she finally laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he insisted. “I want you back, Rosie.”

“Yeah, don’t call me that,” she cut him off. Crossing her arms, she shook her head in obvious amusement. “You know, Mum told me at Christmas that this would happen. That you’d realize your mistake and you’d come crawling back like a maggot. I didn’t believe her back then, of course—but that just goes to show you, she’s not the _Brightest Witch of our Age_ for nothing.”

Aiden looked confused, and she went on: “You’re too late, Aiden. You’re four months too late—” by then, she stepped back towards Scorpius and made a point of taking his hand. Aiden watched with obvious confusion in his eyes. “I’ve moved on, and I’m a hell of a lot better off than I ever was with the likes of _you._ I’m sorry, but you’re just—what was it your letter said? Oh, that’s right—you’re holding me back, and frankly, you’re still very immature. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have lunch to get to. Have a nice life, mate.”

Scorpius shot Aiden one final smirk as the two turned away from him and began to walk up the street once more. After a couple steps, Scorpius took the bouquet of roses from her hand and tossed them up; Rose blasted them to smithereens with her wand a moment later.

“That’s my girl,” he said fondly, squeezing her hand.

 


	4. Accidentally, On Purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned:   
> Here Comes The Sun – The Beatles  
> Step – Vampire Weekend  
> Wait – M83   
> With Me – Sum 41   
> From Eden – Hozier

Accidentally, On Purpose

Or

_Here Comes The Sun_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

( _Step_ \- April 16th – 5:53pm – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

“Is there any coffee left?”

Rose didn’t look up from her copy of _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_ , glancing between it and her half-finished translation and frowning when she spotted something that didn’t look quite right. “I don’t think so. Didn’t you drink the last bit an hour ago?”

Scorpius frowned. “Bugger. Could you make more?”

“You can make it yourself.”

“But yours is so much better than mine.”

Rose sighed, leaning back onto the back of her chair and shooting Scorpius an annoyed look. The two had been studying Ancient Runes all day, cooped up in the study, and the day before they’d been up to their eyeballs in Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks. And though she did enjoy the occasional nice sized mug of strong coffee while she studied, it was nothing compared to Scorpius’ steady consumption throughout the entirety of the two days.

“You’ve had six cups of coffee today, Scorpius.”

“The one I had with breakfast doesn’t count—it wasn’t even black.”

She tried to hold her resolve.

He stuck out his lower lip and pouted at her.

They stared each other off for a good ten seconds before Rose sighed in obvious defeat.

“Fine, but I’m cutting you off—no more coffee until tomorrow, and you’re at least keeping me company while I fuel what is already clearly a wildly unhealthy addiction.”

Scorpius considered her offer for a moment. “Deal.”

“You know, it’s incredible that you can even sit still—let alone take a nap like you did a while ago,” Rose told him as the two left the study and walked over to the kitchen. “If I had as much caffeine in my system as you do, I’d probably be shaking like some sort of squirrel on cocaine.”

Scorpius laughed at that. “Eventually you start developing a high tolerance for the stuff. I’ve had at least two cups of coffee daily since I was eleven.”

“Blimey, Malfoy,” she said, loading up the coffeemaker, “it’s a wonder you aren’t dead yet.”

He fetched mugs from the cabinet for both of them. “I don’t exactly know if you can die from a caffeine overdose. Besides, you know true evil never dies, Rosie.”

“Well, do you think _True Evil_ could get the creamer out of the fridge for me?”

He chuckled, heading over to the fridge. A moment later, the two heard the sound of the Floo coming to life, and turned to see Draco and Hermione stepping into the living room. The elder witch and wizard shed their cloaks; Draco went to put them away in the hall closet and Hermione approached the kitchen.

“Hello, you two. What are you up to?” she asked.

Rose gestured to the coffeemaker and the pot it was currently filling with fresh brew. “I’m making His Royal Highness, the Caffeine Prince, his seventh cup of coffee of the day and wondering how it is that he hasn’t keeled over and died—”

“Oi, is that coffee I smell?” Draco called, walking back into the kitchen.

Scorpius nodded. “Do you want some?”

Draco blinked at his son, and the younger wizard quickly amended his statement. “I know _you_ want some. I meant you,” he said, pointing to Hermione.

The witch smiled. “Yes, please.”

Scorpius turned to the cabinet, tossing his father mugs for him and Hermione, which the elder wizard caught easily with expert reflexes.

“Rose is threatening to cut me off,” the Head Boy told his father.

Draco gasped in mock-indignation. “The audacity! Might as well kill you now and have done with it.”

Rose chuckled, shaking her head as she filled each of their mugs. “Of course. Silly me, I didn’t notice caffeine addiction came deeply-seated in the Malfoy genes.”

Hermione laughed. “Which one is yours?”

The younger witch pointed to the appropriate mug on the counter. Hermione took her wand from her pocket, pointing it at the mug, and a small light erupted from the tip. Rose examined at the coffee, seemingly unchanged, and looked at her mother with confusion.

“It’s decaf now,” Hermione explained, doing the same spell on her own coffee. “I’ll teach you that later. I had to come up with _something_ if I was going to keep up with how often this one drinks coffee,” she added, pointing to her fiancé, who was happily pouring a minimal amount of sugar into his black brew. Rose smirked. Her mother _would_ come up with a spell to turn regular coffee into decaf.

“We’ve got to alert the Prophet,” she said, putting creamer and sugar into her and Hermione’s mugs, drawing Scorpius and Draco’s attention.

“We do?” asked the former, taking a sip.

“Mum and I just made a discovery,” Rose explained. “It would appear that _pure blood_ is nothing more than liters of unadulterated, strong black coffee.”

The others laughed, before Hermione noticed she was missing one offspring. “Where’s Hugo?” she asked of the two teenagers.

“He left a while ago,” Scorpius said. “He was going to the Puddlemere match with Jude, remember?”

“Bloody Nott gets tickets to _everything_ ,” Rose said bitterly, sipping her coffee.

“It helps when your father owns two Quidditch teams,” Draco shrugged. “Old Theo did alright for himself. And he _did_ offer to take you both as well.”

“Well, yes, but Hugo and Jude aren’t taking N.E.W.T.s in a month,” Scorpius replied. Draco and Hermione distracted themselves with discussing what they would all have for dinner.

“O.W.L.s weren’t a picnic, either, if you recall,” Rose said to the Head Boy.

“I honestly think they’re making those tests easier as the years go by,” he mused. “I certainly don’t remember being as relaxed as Hugo and Lily are when _we_ sat for our O.W.L.s.”

“I can’t wait until this is over,” said the Gryffindor, rubbing her sore eyes. “I mean call me crazy, but I certainly didn’t want to spend _my_ Easter holiday cooped up in the study, cuddled up with the _Spellman’s Syllabary_.”

“Too right,” said Scorpius. “I’m not exactly enjoying the fact that after nearly two years of N.E.W.T. level Ancient Runes, I _still_ can’t tell the difference between long-branch runes and short-twig runes.”

Hermione’s attention was drawn instantly, and her voice stopped their conversation. “In the short-twig variant, nine of the runes appear as a simplified deviation of their long-branch equivalent, while the remaining seven have identical shapes as in the long-branch. It’s not as simple as identifying Hälsinge runes, mind you, but it’s not hard, either, once you get the hang of it,” she explained excitedly. “It’s quite straightforward, really, as far as rune-work goes.”

Rose and Scorpius gaped at the elder witch. Draco watched her with fond amusement in his smoke-grey eyes.

“Wow,” he said. “For a moment, I could swear we were sitting in Babbling’s class, and you were answering one of her questions. The Hogwarts version of you just—” he brought up both fists and opened them with the air of spraying something outwards. “Wow.”

Hermione slapped his arm. “Prat.” She turned to the two teenagers. “Do you want my help?”

Rose nodded, but it was Scorpius who spoke, rinsing out his mug in the sink. “That would be great, Mum, thanks.”

They all froze. Hermione, who had been putting the creamer back into the fridge, looked at Scorpius with wide eyes. Suddenly realizing what he’d said, he blushed and stammered, quickly turning to put away his now clean mug in the cabinet. “Er—I mean—”

He was cut off by Hermione rushing up to him and pulling him into a hug. “Don’t you dare take that back,” she choked out, blinking back tears.

“Are you sure?” Scorpius asked. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Upset me?” Hermione echoed. “You daft boy, I’ve been telling you to call me Mum for ages.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose could’ve sworn she caught sight of Draco surreptitiously wiping away a stray tear, but the motion was so quick she couldn’t be sure. When she actually got a good look, the wizard was looking at his son with nothing short of pride on his face, his eyes glistening slightly. She caught his eye a moment later, and he shot her a half-smile and a wink.

Rose smiled and turned to her mother and Scorpius, who had just released each other. “About time,” she told the latter, as Hermione dried the corners of her eyes with her sleeve.

“Come on, you two,” she told the two teenagers, heading for the study. “We’ve got a lot of work to do—I’ll be damned if my children get nothing less than an Outstanding in their Ancient Runes N.E.W.T.”

The two followed her out of the kitchen, before Hermione doubled back with the air of just remembering something. “Oh, Draco, could you be a dear and order some take-away for dinner?”

Draco smirked, his eyes watching her with unrestrained affection. “Thai, Indian or Korean?”

The witch pondered his offer for a moment before shrugging. “Surprise me.”

“Don’t I always?” he shot back.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she called out, but Draco caught sight of her smile.

* * *

( _Barcelona_ \- April 18th – 10:08am – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

Scorpius was deeply immersed in a book when he heard the sound of the door to his bedroom opening. Looking up, he saw Draco poking his head in.

“May I come in?” asked the elder wizard.

“’Course,” said Scorpius, sitting up in his bed. Draco closed the door behind him and walked over, also sitting on the bed.

“What are you reading?”

Scorpius held up the book. “ _The Hobbit_. Hermi—er, Mum gave it to me, said I would enjoy Tolkien.”

Draco smiled. “She gave me _The Fellowship of the Ring_ as a welcome gift when I moved to DMLE from the Auror Office. I was a bit skeptical at first, of course, but I loved it.”

Then, Draco seemed to teeter on the edge of speech for a moment, giving his short beard a scratch.

“Spit it out, Dad,” Scorpius smirked. “You look like a nervous first year about to face the Sorting Hat.”

Draco shot him a disapproving smirk. “Feeling funny today, aren’t we?”

Scorpius grinned. “Always.”

Draco rolled his eyes at his son. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?”

“Astoria called me last week,” Draco said.

Scorpius just looked at him for a few seconds. “I wasn’t aware she knew how to use a phone,” he deadpanned. “What did she want?”

Draco felt the urge to laugh, but he held it together. “She wanted to talk about you, of course.”

“What about me?”

“Well, that you curtly refused to attend her wedding, for starters,” Draco began, and Scorpius leaned back against his headboard and listened. “She acknowledged that she probably didn’t go about inviting you in the best way—which, between you and I, is the first I’ve ever heard of Astoria Greengrass recognizing she made a mistake. And she said she’d like the chance to apologize—to try and make things right with you after all her mishaps during your childhood.”

Scorpius’ eyebrows rose in surprise. “She did?”

“Apparently she’s been on quite a guilt trip,” Draco said. “Now, I didn’t think you’d want to talk to her over the phone, but she did send a letter.”

He pulled a parchment envelope from his back pocket and handed it to Scorpius. “I know you’re not exactly lacking in motherly affection, having Hermione in your life these past few years… And I like to think I did a good job before that.”

“You’ve been the best, Dad,” Scorpius assured him, and Draco smiled fondly at his son.

“That being said, if there’s anything I’ve learned from my experiences during and after the War—particularly with my own parents—it’s that most people _do_ come to genuinely their errors. It would be a bit hypocritical of me to not try and offer Astoria some modicum of forgiveness after I strived so hard to get it from others. However, I do understand if you don’t want anything to do with her, but I would write her back and see what happens—it does seem like she wants to be better, and I don’t think it would hurt much more to give her a small chance to try.”

Scorpius nodded, considering the weight of the envelope in his fingers. “Anything else?”

“Well, yes,” Draco said. Once again, he seemed to mull over what he was going to say before he said it. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Is something going on between you and Rose?”

Scorpius blinked, obviously surprised by the question. He blushed a bit, and stammered when he answered. “Er—I—I mean—Why do you think that?”

His father shot him a knowing smirk. “Well, for starters, you’re stammering _and_ blushing. And secondly, the two of you have been getting on impeccably since you got here. Forgive me if I’m a bit suspicious after dealing with the two of you having each other practically at wandpoint since we moved in.”

Scorpius ran a hand through his blond locks—a habit he appeared to have picked up from Albus. He took a deep breath and considered his words carefully. “We fancy each other, but we’re not dating,” he said finally.

“Hermione owes me ten galleons,” Draco smirked, and Scorpius looked up at him with confusion.

“What?”

“We made a bet,” Draco explained. “I wagered that you two fancied each other, while she figured that you had just learned to get along.”

Scorpius snorted. “I can’t believe you two.”

Draco chuckled. “I’m going to enjoy this thoroughly,” he said. “Being engaged to Hermione Granger doesn’t leave me much room to gloat about being right.”

“So you lot are okay with it?”

The elder wizard shrugged. “It’s not like you’re really related; as long as you lot are happy, we’re fine with it. I mean—you know Hermione wasn’t fond of Rose’s last boyfriend, and he was a bit of a pompous prat, in my opinion. And I wasn’t exactly Francesca’s biggest fan, despite the fact that she’s my friend’s daughter. We agreed that you two are much better suited for each other. But wait, why aren’t you?”

“What, dating?”

Draco nodded.

Scorpius sighed. “Basically, she doesn’t want to rush anything—she wants to be sure that this isn’t just a passing fancy. I don’t blame her,” he added quickly, “if this ends disastrously, it won’t exactly be easy—what with the fact that we live together, we spend nearly all out time together at Hogwarts and the number one job prospect we both have after graduation involves working together as well.”

“But _you_ don’t think it’s just a passing fancy,” Draco pressed. “Do you?”

Scorpius shook his head. “I—er—I’ve fancied Rose since first year.”

Draco looked at him in obvious surprise, but said nothing, and Scorpius kept talking. “The first time I saw her was in the compartment I was sharing with Al on the Hogwarts Express. She stumbled over the foot of someone passing by her in the hall and nearly fell into the compartment—already changed into her robes with this wild, curly mess of hair. I caught her as she toppled over, and she immediately recognized me.”

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” he went on. “She was rather insufferable at times—all self-righteous and a bit of a know-it-all. I got off annoying her, which is why she spent so much time detesting me.”

Draco chuckled a bit. “That sounds familiar. And what changed?”

Scorpius blushed. “At Christmas—well—” he frowned. “I know we’re close, Dad, but I’d rather keep that bit to myself. We’ve just grown closer since then.”

Draco nodded in apparent understanding. “Well, then I hope you two figure things out.”

“I hope so too,” Scorpius said.

The door opened to admit Hugo. “Aren’t you lot ready yet?” he said. “The fitting is in half an hour.”

“Blimey, I’d completely forgotten,” Draco said, getting up from the bed and glancing at his watch. The three wizards were going to try on their tuxedos for the wedding at the tailor’s. Draco addressed both teenagers. “We’ll go into town for the fitting and get some lunch on the way back, yeah? Just the three of us, seeing as Rose and Hermione are off in London.”

“Sounds good,” Hugo shrugged. “But er—I’m actually meeting a friend in town for lunch,” he said, now nervously scratching the back of his head. “She lives nearby.”

“You too?” asked Draco, smirking.

“What?”

“‘ _She’_?” asked Scorpius, getting a jumper from his closet.

Hugo attempted to take back his words, but the two Malfoys shot him knowing looks. “Alright, _fine._ It’s Emilia Fawley.”

“The short, ginger girl in Slytherin?” Scorpius asked.

“Yes,” Hugo said pointedly. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” Draco said, leading the three of them out of Scorpius’ room, shooting a look at his son. “Apparently Slytherin-Gryffindor couples are all the rage in this family.”

Hugo laughed and Scorpius scowled. “I’m never living this one down.”

“Not a chance,” Hugo told him. “Oi, Draco, can I drive?”

“Over my dead body will you be behind the wheel of my car again, Hugo,” said Draco. Scorpius laughed.

* * *

 

(April 18th – 11:27am – Madam Rosenbaum’s Bridal Shop – Diagon Alley – London)

Rose and Hermione sat on one of the lavish, antique couches in the bridal shop, surrounded by what seemed like hundreds of gowns on racks. They were waiting for the dressmaker to finish off her current appointment, and Hermione was quite nervous.

“It’ll be perfect, Mum, relax,” Rose told her.

“Well, what if it isn’t?”

“There’s still plenty of time before the wedding for any alterations—hell, there’s even time to find an entirely new dress if you don’t like this one.”

Hermione nodded. “I just want everything to be perfect this time around.”

Rose laid a hand on her mother’s. “It will be,” she assured her. “Just relax.”

A moment later, Madam Irma Rosenbaum, a curvy woman with blonde hair pulled up atop her head, walked into the room and greeted them. She had a cheerful demeanor and a thick, Irish accent and lead Rose to the changing room first. She allowed the woman to help her into the gown. Madam Rosenbaum used her wand to do up the seemingly endless row of tiny round buttons in the back, and Rose stepped outside, her toes sinking into the plush, champagne-colored carpet.

Hermione gasped at the sight of her, her face nearly splitting in two from the size of her smile.

“You look absolutely gorgeous!” she exclaimed. Rose turned to the mirror to have a good look at herself.

The dress was a dusty, smoky sort of grey—very similar to the shade of Draco and Scorpius’ eyes which, Rose thought, was probably the reason Hermione had chosen that particular color. It was strapless and had a sweetheart neckline, and the thin, floaty material was gathered around the shape of the bodice in tiny folds down to her waist. A thin satin sash in the same color tied around her waist into a bow at the back, and from then on, the dress simply fell straight to her feet in a light, airy curtain.

She had to admit, she did love what the design did for her figure, emphasizing her breasts—which were rather on the smaller side, and stood up well to being emphasized—and her slim waist, and the color was very flattering on her as well. She turned a bit to get a good look at the backside, and finally smiled into the mirror.

“I love it,” she declared.

“You’re going to be the loveliest maid of honor, I swear,” Hermione gushed.

Madam Rosenbaum began fussing around her, checking for any loose areas or anything that had to be altered, but the dress appeared to be a perfect fit.

“Wonderful,” the elder witch proclaimed, and she turned to Hermione. “How about we see yours as well?”

Rose saw her mother gulp in anticipation, but the elder witch nodded, allowing Madam Rosenbaum to escort her back to the changing rooms. A couple minutes later, Rose heard the sound of swishing fabric approaching and turned to look at her mother. She gasped.

Hermione’s gown was nothing short of spectacular, if quite simple in its execution. It was not strikingly white, but rather a soft off-white with rosy undertones that complimented Hermione’s skin tone and the chocolate color of her hair. The front had a boat neckline, showing off the witch’s collarbones and draping a bit around her cleavage, and the fabric wrapped around the bodice snugly. The back was a bit daring, open in a V almost to Hermione’s waist; it had no sash, but the soft material hugged her waist at the slimmest point before fanning out in layers that draped softly to the witch’s feet and trailed only slightly behind her.

“Oh my Merlin, Mum,” Rose said, covering her mouth with both hands.

Hermione turned to look at herself in the mirror, twisting this way and that to inspect her dress thoroughly. She was smiling broadly, and her eyes were glistening slightly with unshed tears of joy. “It’s perfect!”

“You look stunning,” Rose said sincerely, and Madam Rosenbaum nodded in agreement.

“You really think so?” Hermione asked.

“Draco won’t know what hit him,” her daughter assured her.

Hermione smiled again. “You know, I was thinking of not having a veil,” she told Rose. “I don’t want this wedding to feel stuffy and rigid; I want it to be light and carefree and fun.”

Madam Rosenbaum, who was in the middle of adjusting the draping of a part of Hermione’s dress, stood straight. “I think I have just the thing for that,” she declared. She left them for only a moment, returning with two flower crowns draped on her arm. She walked up to both witches, settling one amongst the curly hair on each of their heads. The crowns were simple, just an alternating row of white and pale pink roses, which offset the grey of Rose’s dress nicely, and brought out the pinkish undertones of Hermione’s gown.

“Of course, these are artificial flowers, but I remembered you told me you were having white and pink roses,” Madam Rosenbaum. “But we can arrange for the florist to send me fresh ones a day or two before the wedding and I’ll make new ones.”

“That sounds perfect!” Hermione said, smiling at the elder witch.

“Lovely,” Madam Rosenbaum said. “Now, let’s get you two out of these dresses.”

After they had changed back into their normal clothes, Hermione made the appointment for one final fitting, two weeks before the wedding was to take place. Thanking Madam Rosenbaum, the two women left the shop and walked up the street, blending in amongst the throng of visitors crowding Diagon Alley.

“Why don’t we stop by Fortescue’s?” asked Hermione, looping her arm through her daughter’s.

“Ice cream for lunch, Mum?” Rose asked. “Really?”

Hermione shrugged. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Rose grinned. “Alright then.”

They made their way further up the busy street, entering Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor a moment later. The old wizard beamed and recognized Hermione immediately, telling them both to have a seat while he personally took their orders, congratulating the elder witch on her engagement. Hermione ordered a banana split, but Rose ordered what had been her favorite ice cream sundae since she could remember.

Appropriately dubbed the Triple Chocolate Chip Brownie Supreme, the concoction consisted of a massive brownie, still hot from the oven, with scoops of chocolate chip and vanilla ice cream, topped off with chocolate syrup, whipped cream and sprinkles, chopped peanuts and a single cherry. The first time Rose had attempted to eat the thing, she had been five years old, and the resulting sugar rush had been so severe that Hermione and Ron had seriously considered taking her to St. Mungo’s.

Fortescue brought their orders a few minutes later with a smile, telling Hermione it was on the house, but she insisted, handing him a handful of galleons that included a generous tip. The wizard chuckled and blushed, and left them a moment later.

“Merlin, this is good,” Rose moaned, her eyes rolling back into her head.

Hermione chuckled. “‘ _Ice cream for lunch, Mum?’_ Honestly, Rose.”

“I’m glad you were the one who suggested it,” Rose said. “That way it won’t be my fault if neither of us fit into our gowns.”

“Please, there’s still plenty of time to work off these treats,” Hermione said. After a moment: “I wonder what the boys are up to.”

“Draco mentioned they were going in for a fitting as well,” Rose replied between mouthfuls of ice cream.

Hermione nodded. “Though I expect they’ll have to do another fitting on Hugo when you lot return from Hogwarts, with how he’s growing lately.”

Rose nodded in agreement. “He’s going to tower over Scorpius any day know, the way he’s going—and he’s not exactly short, either.”

“Speaking of Scorpius,” Hermione said, swallowing another bite of her ice cream. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Hm, I wonder what that is,” Rose smirked, giving her mother a knowing look.

Hermione pursed her lips at her daughter. “Draco seems to think the two of you have developed a fancy for each other.”

Though she was expecting something along those lines, Rose still choked a bit on her ice cream at Hermione’s declaration. She coughed twice, attempting to save face. “Does he?”

The elder witch nodded, eyeing her teenage daughter carefully. Rose stayed very much focused on her ice cream, spooning a large bite of brownie into her mouth.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

Rose chewed very carefully, looking her mother in the eye for a moment. Finally, she nodded.

Hermione frowned. “Damn it, now I owe him ten galleons.”

Rose’s mouth fell open in shock. “You were _betting_?” she asked rather indignantly.

Hermione shrugged. “He kept insisting something was off and that it _must_ be that—I told him I thought the two of you had simply learned to get along.”

Rose actually laughed at that. “Mum, no offense, but Draco’s idea was at least _plausible_.”

The elder witch rolled her eyes and swallowed a bite of her ice cream. “I’ll have to cough up, then,” she said, resigned. “You and Scorpius are dating then? How did that happen?”

Rose shook her head, her mouth full. “Not yet.”

Hermione looked confused. “Why not?”

Rose cocked an eyebrow. “Does this mean you don’t have any problem with it?”

Hermione shrugged. “You aren’t actually brother and sister—I don’t think there’s anything particularly _wrong_ with it. Merlin knows I wasn’t particularly adept at resisting _the Malfoy charm_ ,” she quipped. “I can’t very well expect the same thing from you.”

Rose chuckled. “Don’t let Scorp or Draco hear that bit about the _‘Malfoy charm_ ’, or neither of us will ever hear the end of it.”

“Too right,” Hermione agreed. “You haven’t answered my questions, though.”

“Why aren’t we dating?”

“And what happened?”

Rose pondered her answer, taking another bite of her sundae before answering. “Well,” she began. “It’s mostly my doing, really…” She took a deep breath. “You promise you won’t freak out?”

Hermione frowned. “You had sex, didn’t you?”

“ _Mum_!” Rose looked around frantically at the other customers in the shop, blushing a deep shade of red, but no one seemed to have heard her.

“What? Rose, I was with you when the Healer decided to put you on the potion,” Hermione pointed out. “I’m not daft—I knew it would happen eventually. So, did you or didn’t you?”

Rose was completely horrified and her blush had not yet subsided, but she nodded nonetheless, taking another bite of brownie.

“Good Godric…” Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Please tell me it wasn’t at the house.”

“Oh, Merlin, no!” Rose said. Hermione exhaled in evident relief.

“At Connor and Finley’s party. It wasn’t planned—obviously, we just got drunk and well…” she trailed off, gesturing vaguely. “After that, things were awkward to say the least, and it was weeks before we even managed to have a normal conversation.”

Hermione finished chewing and swallowed; after a moment, she smirked. “‘ _It was snowing too much to go out and call the Knight Bus, Mum_ —I knew it!”

Rose laughed, choking again on her ice cream. “ _That’s_ what you’re going to say?”

“Would you rather I told you off?”

“Well, _no_ ,” the younger witch admitted.

“What happened after that?” Hermione asked.

“He asked me to have lunch with him in Hogsmeade,” Rose began, and as the two finished off their ice cream sundaes, she filled Hermione in on the events of that day and on the status of her current relationship with the Head Boy.

“You know I love Scorpius,” Hermione said finally, as the two left the shop. “I understand your hesitancy, but if he makes you happy and you care for him that much, you should just go for it. Take the plunge.”

Rose bit her lip. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

Hermione looked at her daughter as if the girl was being quite daft. “Sweetheart, but what if it does?”

* * *

 

( _Wait_ \- April 19th – 7:13pm – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

Scorpius stared at the envelope lying on the bed in front of him so intently that it was a wonder it hadn’t caught fire yet. Taking a deep breath, he decided he’d put this off long enough, and took the thing into his hands, opening the wax seal with nimble fingers and extracting the sheet of parchment within.

_Scorpius,_

_I wasn’t quite sure about the best way to begin this letter, but since I realized there are quite a number of things I should be apologizing to you for, I decided that an apology might be the best place to start. I would like to apologize, firstly, for how I handled the matter of inviting you to my wedding. After all that has transpired between us and the nature of our relationship, I recognize now that it wasn’t my place to demand you attend the wedding_ — _particularly considering who I’m marrying. That said, if you change your mind, and decide you would like to come, you would be welcome and I would be thrilled, but it is entirely your decision and if you choose not to, I respect that and will not resent you for it in any way._

_You’re most likely wondering what prompted this change of heart on my part. To be quite frank, it was an article I spotted in the Prophet a month ago, announcing your father was to marry Hermione Granger. You’ve probably seen it, and therefore know that attached to the article was a photo of them that included Hermione’s own children and yourself. I know we haven’t seen each other in a few years (mostly due to my own faults as a mother), but to see you in that photograph, so grown up and looking exactly the way your father did at your age… Well, it shocked me quite a bit, to be honest._

_If what I’ve heard about your noble character, quick wit and easy demeanor is true; it is entirely on your father’s merit that you turned out to be such a wonderful person. I’m sure, of course, that Hermione’s influence on you in the past few years has been strong, and though she and I never did see eye to eye in our youth and particularly during my marriage to your father, I believe I have her to thank as well for how you turned out, and for how she has apparently filled in the role of your mother._

_This brings me to my other apology. I’ve come to the recent realization that I was quite heartless and mediocre as a mother during your childhood, and I have been so selfish and preoccupied with other matters that I’ve completely neglected all duty towards you in the past six years. I cannot begin to express how much I regret how I’ve been, and I understand now that I made many mistakes with you. I would like to mend those errors to the best of my ability, if you would allow me the opportunity, though as I said before, that decision is entirely your own and I will respect your wishes if you decide you want nothing to do with me. I honestly wouldn’t be able to blame you if you did. That being said and despite all my faults, I do love you, Scorpius, and I would like the chance to earn a place in your life._

_All my love,_

_Astoria._

Scorpius’ hands were trembling slightly as he reached the bottom of the page, and he carefully returned the letter to its envelope, tucking it safely inside the drawer of his bedside table. He rested back against the headboard and exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair, pondering the words he had just read.

A knock sounded on the door to his room, and Rose opened it a moment later. “Dinner’s ready,” she said.

“Coming,” he said, getting up from the bed. When he got to her, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before leading them both out of the room.

“Are you alright?” Rose asked.

“‘Course,” he answered, affecting nonchalance. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

* * *

 

(April 20th – 2:23pm – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

Rose finished rinsing out the last plate from lunch, and flipped the switch to activate the garbage disposal in the sink before she began drying off the dishes. Scorpius and Hugo had cooked, and so she had volunteered to clean up while the two practiced Vanishing Spells in the back yard.

Hermione and Draco had been called out to an emergency in DMLE; apparently there had been some sort of incident involving a herd of centaurs that had run amok through a small muggle town. The couple had no idea when they would return from sorting out the mess—possibly late that night, or the next morning, depending on how much work had to be done. Consequently, the three teenagers had been left to their own devices for the day.

The morning had been dedicated to studying Transfiguration, and it turned out that Scorpius, despite being exceptionally adept at the subject, had yet to successfully Vanish anything in his life (when asked, he explained to Rose that he had gotten an O on his Transfiguration O.W.L. simply because he hadn’t been asked to Vanish anything—Rose called him a lucky bastard). Hugo had mastered the spell as early on as first year, as a means of getting rid of the evidence left behind when he and his friends got into any sort of trouble; as such, the younger wizard offered to practice the spell with the Head Boy after lunch until he got the hang of it.

Rose levitated the clean plates onto the top shelf in the cabinet that was just out of her reach. The next challenge of the day was a particularly ghastly History of Magic essay for Binns, and she decided to peruse her mother’s books in the study to see if she could find anything that would help them. After a few minutes of searching, she came up with a very expensive-looking volume on goblin rebellions that looked to be pretty detailed and could probably work. Taking the book in her hand, she walked back to the living room, sliding open the glass doors that lead out into the patio; she was nearly run over by Hugo just as she attempted to step outside.

“Oi!”

“Blimey, sorry, Rose,” Hugo said.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” asked the witch.

“I’m meeting a friend in town,” he replied.

Rose smirked. “Emilia Fawley?”

Hugo’s ears turned pink and he frowned. “News travels fast around here, doesn’t it?”

Rose laughed. “When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure,” said the younger wizard. “We might meet up with some of her friends to grab a bite later.”

“Call if you need anything, yeah? Have fun,” she told him, and a moment later he bolted out the front door. The Head Girl stepped outside to the yard and watched as Scorpius was successfully Vanishing the small, red balls that Rose had conjured up as targets for him and Hugo had placed all over the yard.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” she complimented. “Oi, I found this in Mum’s books and—”

He had turned at the sound of her voice, but he did it mid-spell; a jet of light flew from his wand and Rose watched in horror as it missed the intended target and hit the book in her hands, making it disappear instantly into thin air. Into nonbeing, as Rose would recall a moment later from Stronghold’s class. And nonbeing was a pretty permanent state.

She gasped. “You just—Mum’s book—it’s gone!”

Scorpius’ eyes were wide with horror, his wand lolling helplessly in his hand. “ _Salazar’s grave_ , what did I do?”

“You vanished it, you idiot!” she practically screamed at him.

“Well, of course I know that!”

“Then what are doing, asking me?”

“It was _rhetorical,_ Rose!”

Rose covered her face with both hands and sat down on the step. “Bloody hell. Bloody buggering sodding hell, Mum is going to _kill us_.”

Scorpius took a deep breath. “No, she won’t.”

“Scorpius, you accidentally vanished a book that belongs to Hermione Granger. A book that I removed from the study without her permission,” she said, still not uncovering her face. “Trust me when I say she won’t care that we’re her children, she _will_ kill us.”

“No, she won’t,” he repeated, and the confidence in his voice made her look up. “Do you remember exactly which book that was?”

“ _A Complete History of Goblin Rebellions, Wars and Conflict_ by Thelonius Drakensberg,” Rose told him.

He nodded. “Alright then, come on.” He offered her his hand and helped her up, leading her inside.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He grabbed his money bag from his back pocket, checking that he had enough galleons on him. “To get a replacement, of course.”

* * *

 

(April 20th – 3:06pm – Flourish and Blotts - Diagon Alley – London)

Scorpius and Rose looked through the shelves in the History section at Flourish and Blotts, searching the titles carefully. After a few minutes of searching, Scorpius’ voice drew Rose’s attention.

“Aha!” he said triumphantly, pulling a book from the shelves. He held it up to Rose. “Is this it?”

She walked over, examining the cover and the interior thoroughly. “It’s perfect,” she concluded. “Hopefully, Mum won’t tell the difference.”

“Brilliant,” Scorpius sighed with relief. “Come on.”

They payed for the book and left the shop a moment later, the wrapped parcel safely tucked under Scorpius’ arm as the two walked back down the street.

“I can’t believe we pulled that off,” Rose said a moment later. “I honestly thought we were done for.”

Scorpius chuckled, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips, kissing her knuckles briefly. “I told you, she won’t kill us—hell, she won’t even know it happened. For all intents and purposes, the book never left its shelf.”

“We’re lucky she takes such good care of her books,” Rose remarked. “Otherwise we’d never be able to pass this one off.”

Scorpius waved her off. “Nonsense. We just would’ve had to toss it around for a bit to damage it a little.”

Rose laughed. “Don’t ever let Mum here you talk about beating books around—she’ll slap you upside the head so hard, you’ll fail your N.E.W.T.s.”

“Merlin, we can’t have that,” Scorpius grinned. “Besides, I’m not about to start tossing around a book I paid twelve galleons for—that’s just lunacy.”

Rose was just about to say something else when the sound of a voice calling her name made her freeze. Scorpius only noticed she had stopped walking when their joined hands prevented him from moving forward. He looked at her; her eyes were wide, staring off into space, and her mouth was slightly ajar.

“Rose? Are you alright?” he asked, now looking concerned.

She gave her head a quick shake as if to clear it. “I just thought I heard—”

“Rose!”

There was no mistaking it that time. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach, and the two of them turned to look up the street and spotted him at the same time. Ronald Weasley was walking briskly towards them, hands in the pocket of his jacket.

“I thought it was you,” he said as he approached them. “I couldn’t be sure, of course, but—”

Rose took a step away from him just as he attempted to reach for her, colliding with Scorpius’ chest. It was then that Ron noticed exactly who her daughter was with and recognized the younger man immediately. How could he not? Despite his slightly softer, less pointed features, Scorpius was practically identical to how Draco had been at the same age. The elder man stopped a couple meters short of them and it was during the silence that followed that Rose actually got a good look at him.

His face was slightly more lined and he’d grown a beard in the time that had passed since she’d seen him—trimmed short, but a beard nonetheless. His hair was as thick as it had ever been, but she could see from this distance that spots of it were now speckled with grey. He was frowning, giving Scorpius the once-over, and the disapproving look on his face brought Rose out of the shock of seeing her father for the first time in three years and made her blood boil in less than a second.

“What are you doing here?” she said finally, her tone harsh and cold.

The elder wizard’s eyes—colored a bright blue, like Hugo’s—finally turned away from Scorpius and looked at her. He seemed to just notice her appearance, and the fact that she looked much more grown up than she had the last time he’d seen her—of course, at fourteen, she was still a girl. He blinked once, twice and finally spoke.

“Er—Lavender’s wand broke on accident and we came down to Ollivander’s to get her a new one,” he explained. “I spotted you leaving Flourish and Blotts from the shop window. I wasn’t sure if it was you, of course—but I came out to check, either way.”

“Of course it’s me,” Rose said bitterly, infinitely more angered at the mention of Lavender. “Were you expecting the bloody Easter Bunny?”

Ron frowned at her reply but said nothing of it, instead making another attempt at conversation. “How have you been? Your mother mentioned your graduation ceremony is on the first week of June.”

“Did she?” Rose asked skeptically.

“She thought I might like to come,” Ron elaborated.

“She would,” Rose acknowledged. “But I don’t want you there.”

“Rose, I’m your father,” he reminded her. “I think that gives me the right to attend your graduation ceremony.”

She snorted. “‘ _I’m your father’_ ,” she echoed resentfully. “Is that what you tell yourself at night, Ron?”

The wizard’s ears turned pink. “Rose—”

“Of course, being my father never stopped you from walking out on us and never looking back,” she went on, her tone showing no mercy. “Being my father never stopped you from skipping off to marry that bint the second you could.”

At this, Scorpius wrapped an arm protectively around her waist, but remained quiet. The gesture did not go unnoticed by Ron, who looked from the offending arm, to Scorpius himself, to Rose.

“Are you two together?” he asked, and Rose was only slightly pleased by the fact that it was evident by his tone that the notion angered him quite a bit. She smirked.

“Yes, we are,” she replied confidently, and Scorpius’ grip around her waist tightened the smallest amount. “Have been for a while now, actually. Is there a problem with that?”

The wizard scoffed. “A problem?” he echoed. “Of course there’s a bloody problem—my daughter will not be seen with a Malfoy.”

Rose actually laughed at that, but the sound was rough and unforgiving. “I’m sorry, Ron, but you don’t get a say in this. You may have fathered me once upon a time, but as of July, my _dad_ will be Draco Malfoy. And there’s not a single damned thing you can do about that, alright? Just as there’s not a single damned thing you can do about Scorp and I being together. Your opinion doesn’t matter—it hasn’t for years.”

She was just about to turn and walk away from him, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You know what? Come to my graduation if you want, or don’t. It doesn’t make any difference—I’ve just realized that I could care less whether you’re there or not. Now, I’ve just spotted that pig-headed cow you call your wife, and I don’t want to spoil my lunch by actually having to talk to her. So if you’ll excuse us, we’re going home.”

And without waiting for an answer, she took Scorpius by the hand and the both of them walked away, leaving a fuming Ron alone in the middle of the cobbled street.

* * *

 

( _With Me_ \- April 20th – 3:42pm – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

Rose was still livid by the time they Apparated onto the front porch of the house. Her hands were shaking so violently that she couldn’t fit the key into the lock properly, and Scorpius had to do it for her, unlocking the door and taking the wards down with his wand a moment later. Once inside, she took the new book into the study, placing it in the vacant spot on the shelf with careful, calculated movements. When she came back to the living room, she was a bit calmer, and Scorpius had taken a bottle of firewhisky from the liquor cabinet and was pouring a shot for each of them.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He shrugged, handing her a glass. “Dad always says that firewhisky is good for calming someone down.”

She nodded, throwing back her shot and feeling as the liquor burned a trail down her throat and the warmth settled in her stomach. “Thank you,” she said.

Scorpius had taken his shot in a similar fashion. He took both glasses, quickly cleaning them with magic and carefully returned them and the bottle to their places. “Are you alright?” he asked, approaching her. Rose had her arms crossed over her chest and she was frowning, and Scorpius rubbed her upper arms with both hands.

“I think so,” she said finally. “I don’t really know—I mean, I hadn’t pictured what would happen if I ever ran into him, but I’m pretty sure what happened isn’t what I would’ve expected in any case… Just,” she paused, and her voice dropped even lower. “The _nerve_ of him—it’s bad enough that he thinks he has a say in who I decide to date or not—but the fact that he feels he can talk that way about you, simply because your surname is _Malfoy_. It’s absolutely ludicrous. It’s like he thinks the last twenty-something years never happened.”

Scorpius was scowling at the memory. “No offense, Rose, but your dad is an arse.”

She half-smirked and nodded. “He’s not my dad though. He may be my father, but he’s not my dad. He wasn’t there when I won my first Quidditch Cup, or when I passed my O.W.L.s, or during any of the important things that have happened in my life in the past few years. Draco has. I meant what I said to Ron; for all intents and purposes, _Draco’s_ my dad. Not him.”

Scorpius smiled at her rather fondly. After a few moments, he looked away, seemingly on the verge of asking a question. “And did you mean what you told him about us?”

Rose’s golden eyes watched him carefully for a moment. She finally stretched onto her toes and pressed her lips against his, gently, carefully, placing her hand on his cheek as she pulled away.

“Does that answer your question?” she asked.

He nodded, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. “Are you sure?”

It was her turn to nod, and she pulled his face down towards her, meeting his lips with hers again; this time with more vigor, purposefully moving her lips, trying to convey everything she felt and couldn’t put into words. As they kissed, his hands moved to wrap around her waist, and hers wrapped around his neck. The minutes passed, but neither of them seemed to need to come up for air.

His grip on her tightened as his tongue explored her mouth, and one of his hands came up her back to bury itself in the thick, soft cloud of her hair. She tentatively bit his lip; not hard, just enough to elicit a hiss from him and to make him kiss her with more urgency. She dug her fingers into the silky strands of his blond hair, and the feeling of her fingernails lightly scratching at his scalp was nearly Scorpius’ undoing. He broke the kiss, and the two of them struggled to steady their breathing. Their chests met in the middle with each heaving inhalation; their foreheads were touching, his breath tickling her upper lip with every exhale.

Finally, he took her hand in hers, tugging her towards the stairs. She didn’t ask where they were going, but allowed him to lead her upstairs and down the hall to his room.

* * *

 

( _From Eden_ \- April 20th – 4:08pm – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

They undressed slowly, removing each layer of clothing carefully, breaking the kiss only when strictly necessary.

His jumper.

Her cardigan.

His t-shirt.

Her blouse.

His jeans.

Her jeans.

They each kicked off their shoes as Scorpius lay her gently down on the bed, hovering over her with his weight resting on his palms. Despite having done this before, they touched each other with the fervent care of new lovers who want to learn each other thoroughly, taking their time in discovering what each of them liked.

Rose felt warm and blissfully alive as he touched her, relishing in the vividness of it all; the fact that the memory of this would retain perfect detail, not half-obscured beneath the hazy fog of drunkenness. Scorpius’ throaty groan as he melted inside her folds shook her to the very core, and she felt so _full_ , her body positively tingling with sensation as he began to pump in and out of her purposefully but tenderly.

To use a common phrase: yes, he shagged her to within an inch of her life, but he did so lovingly, amid soft moans and whispered words of affection from them both.

When the knot that had been building behind her navel since they began kissing in the living room finally unraveled, Rose trembled beneath him, her limbs shuddering uncontrollably, the delicious warmth of her orgasm spreading out to the very tips of her fingers and toes. Scorpius managed two, three, four more strokes before his own release overcame him, her name passing his lips in a strangled whisper.

Afterwards, they lay together under the covers: her head on his chest, her hand tracing absent patterns on his flawless skin while he half-sat with his back against the headboard, his left hand playing with a stray curl of her hair.

“You know,” she mused some time later, when the light flooding the room through the sheer curtains was orange and the sun low in the late-afternoon sky, “The first thing Mum did when I told her we had shagged was ask if we’d done it in the house.”

“You _told_ her we _shagged_?” Scorpius asked, positively horrified.

Rose laughed. “Not exactly. She asked what happened between us to start this and when I couldn’t give her an acceptable answer, she assumed we had.”

“Blimey, I’ll never be able to look her in the eye now.”

“It’ll be alright—” she kissed his chest “—of course, when that conversation happened, we hadn’t shagged in the house. So yeah, I think we should be at least slightly embarrassed now.”

Scorpius chuckled. “I expect she’s told Dad by now—it seems kind of pointless now that I told him I wanted to keep that bit to myself.”

“You did?”

“Well, hell if I knew Mum was going to just going to coax it out of you. I should’ve expected that though,” he added, “I mean, the woman makes a living in law-enforcement. She could probably make an Unspeakable spill his deepest, darkest secrets if she tried.”

Rose giggled a bit, and the sound felt rich and perfect to Scorpius’ ears. “I like that you call her Mum now.”

He shrugged. “She’s done more than enough to earn the title, in my opinion.”

The two of them fell silent for a few moments.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” he said eventually.

Rose lifted her head to look at him, a bit of concern noticeable in her amber eyes. “What is it?”

“Astoria called Dad last week,” he said. “She told him she wants to make things right with me, and she sent a letter.”

Rose’s look of surprise didn’t subside, even as he leaned over to pull the letter from the drawer he’d put it in two nights before. He handed it to Rose, waiting patiently while she read the contents of Astoria’s correspondence. When she was finished, she let the hand holding the letter drop to her lap and looked up at him.

“Wow,” was all she said.

“I know,” Scorpius agreed, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. Then he frowned slightly. “I always wondered if she thought about it—if she regretted any of her shortcomings from when I was a kid… But I wasn’t expecting all that.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked him.

“Well, I’m not going to the wedding tomorrow,” he said. “I’m not ready for that.”

Rose nodded in understanding. “And about the other bit? Letting her back in your life?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I’d like to be able to forgive her, but I can’t help but hesitate—Dad says I should give her a shot. He said he couldn’t find it in himself not to offer her some measure of forgiveness considering all the hard work he did trying to earn everyone’s acceptance after his part in the War.”

The corners of her mouth turned upwards. “That does sound like something he’d say.”

“What do you think I should do?”

She pondered her answer for a moment, finally shaking her head. “I don’t know if I’m the best person to offer you any advice on this, Scorp… I mean, you just saw first-hand what my relationship with Ron is like. I haven’t forgiven him, and I doubt I’ll be able to do so in the foreseeable future—not until he realizes that he can’t _force me_ to accept his choices, just as he can’t attempt to control mine.”

Scorpius nodded in understanding.

“Look,” she said finally. “In an ideal world, everyone gets along wonderfully with their parents. And in some ways, what you have with your dad and what I have with my Mum is enviable to a lot of people—particularly _us._ I mean, I would love to have an easygoing, supportive, understanding relationship with Ron as you do with Draco, you know? I would. But with everything that’s happened,” she sighed. “We clash rather violently. And he only seems willing to accept the things I do and the choices I make that please _him_. But Astoria… From what I gathered, she’s willing to accept you as you are—she merely asks that you allow her the opportunity to get to know who that is,” she shrugged. “It’s your choice, Scorp. But if I had that chance, I would take it.”

He nodded, leaning over to press a kiss to her lips. “Thank you.”

“No need,” she said smiling. She made to get up from the bed then, walking naked to the door, turning to look at him when he didn’t follow. “Come on.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, unable to help his gaze from lingering across her figure.

She grinned. “I thought I’d make some coffee,” she said. “If you want, you can come with me.”

He didn’t wait to be told twice.


	5. Small Victories

Small Victories

Or

_Give Me A Try_

* * *

 

_Esteemed parents and family of our students,_

_Myself, as well as the faculty and staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, are thrilled to invite you to the graduation ceremony of our seventh year class, to take place on the 9 th of June of the present year, at eleven o’ clock in the morning, on the grounds of the school. A luncheon will immediately follow for the parents and families of the graduates, and the Hogwarts Express will return the students to London the following morning. The rest of the student body will be returning to London on the morning of the 8th of June, but if any student that is a direct family member of a graduate wishes to remain behind for the ceremony, they may do so and return on the later train. _

_As the school is unable to accommodate Apparition onto the grounds or inside the castle, those wishing to attend may Apparate into Hogsmeade, where the carriages will be waiting to take everyone up to the school. If you are unable to attend via Apparition, please inform our Deputy Headmistress, Isadora Stronghold, via owl and we will be happy to make arrangements for Floo connections into the castle or other means of transport._

_Hoping to see you soon,_

_Minerva McGonagall,  
Headmistress of Hogwarts._

* * *

 

_Astoria,_

_This is the fifth or sixth attempt I make at writing this_ — _mostly because I wasn’t exactly sure what I should say, but I guess I should probably start by introducing myself._

 _My name is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. I am a seventh year student of Slytherin House at Hogwarts, Head Boy, Captain and Seeker of my House Team. My other interests include Transfiguration, football (that’s a muggle sport_ — _I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it), books (novels in particular) and caffeine. My best mate is Albus Potter, and the owl currently delivering this letter to you is mine_ — _his name is Apollo. I am currently involved in a romantic relationship with Rose Weasley_ — _that’s Hermione’s daughter_ — _a seventh year student of Gryffindor House, Head Girl, Captain and Seeker for her House Team._

_I want to apologize if any of what I’m about to say offends or hurts you, because that’s not what I intend to do. Rather, I think you would prefer if you and I were honest with each other from the get-go, no? So that’s what I’ll try to do._

_When Dad told me you wanted to talk and try to mend our relationship_ — _if you can even call it that_ — _I was pretty hesitant at first. It’s not like I’ve ever felt this gaping hole in my life where you should be, but I did wonder at some point or another, if there was something wrong with me or if there was anything I had done to make you leave, and if you had ever felt some sort of regret about what had transpired. Since Dad started seeing Hermione a few years ago, she’s taken me in as her own son and given me more motherly affection than I knew what to do with, to be quite frank. She’s great, as is Rose and Hugo, her son, and her entire family, really. They’ve all been wonderful to Dad and to me. As you might understand, this is what really made me doubt whether I wanted or even needed your presence in my life._

_I eventually talked to Rose about it, and she helped me put things in perspective. She told me that in an ideal world, everyone has perfect relationships with their parents, but in reality, most people don’t get that luck. To put it simply, I realized I should appreciate the fact that despite everything that’s happened, you’re willing to make an effort to become a part of my life and get to know me. And I’m willing to get to know you as well._

_I didn’t attend your wedding because I honestly didn’t feel ready, but I hope everything went great and I hope you’re happy. My graduation ceremony is on the 9 th of June, at 11 o’clock in the morning, at Hogwarts, and there’ll be a luncheon afterwards for the families of the graduates. I would really like it if you could come. I think it would be good for us to start on the right foot. Baby steps, yeah?_

_Your son,_

_Scorpius_

* * *

 

_Together with their families_

_Hermione Jean Granger_ _  
_ _and_ _  
_ _Draco Lucius Malfoy_

_request the pleasure of your company  
in celebrating their marriage_

_Saturday, the sixth of July_  
two thousand twenty-four  
at half-past two in the afternoon

 _The Royal Livingstone Hotel_  
101 King Street  
Manchester

_Reception to immediately follow_

* * *

(May 6th – 7:03pm – Heads’ Office – Hogwarts)

“Invites have already been sent out to the parents of all the seventh years,” Scorpius was telling the prefects. “Everyone else will be returning home on the eighth of June, but if anyone wishes to stay for the graduation ceremony, they can return on the train with the seventh years on the tenth. Any questions?”

Imelda Pearson, the fifth year Hufflepuff prefect, raised her hand. “Can anyone stay? Or do we have to be related to someone graduating?”

“I’m afraid only direct family members can stay,” Rose answered her. “That means only siblings.”

Imelda looked crestfallen; if pressed, Rose might have remembered that the prefect’s boyfriend was a seventh year, but as such, she went on as if nothing had happened. “Another note: Madam Hooch has finally set a date for the Quidditch Cup final; it will take place on the third of June at three o’clock. Parents who want to attend will need to owl Professor Stronghold in advance.”

A few more comments on point deduction later, the prefects were dismissed and Rose and Scorpius began to clean up the office and gather their things to head down to supper.

“Hey, do you have something to do after dinner?” asked Rose, putting away some papers.

“No, I don’t think so, why? Fancy an escapade?” Scorpius smirked, wiggling his blond eyebrows at the witch.

Rose’s eyes narrowed, but she smiled. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Malfoy. Actually, I was thinking we should head down to check on the Polyjuice. It should be ready to add the Boomslang skin by now.”

The Head Boy pondered her words for a moment. “Yes, you’re probably right. We can go down together after, yeah?

The Gryffindor nodded in agreement, and the wizard opened a drawer in one of the desks and took out a couple Chocolate Frogs.

“Weasley, think fast,” she said, tossing one to the Head Girl.

She caught it effortlessly. “Trying to spoil my supper?”

“Please,” he scoffed, resting against the desk as he opened the wrapper. “I’ve seen you eat. It’s a miracle you don’t devour the silverware.”

Rose gasped in mock-offense, approaching him and allowing him to rest one hand on her hip. “You’re just bitter I can eat more than you and still retain this flawless physique, while _you_ have to work for it. Mark my words; you’ll get fat without Quidditch practice.”

Scorpius smirked, taking a bite of his chocolate. “You’d still want me. You can’t resist my charm.”

She laughed. “Oi, I got McGonagall,” she remarked, looking down at the card that came with her treat. “Blimey, she looks young in this. What about you?”

“Bowman Wright,” Scorpius replied, showing her the card. “Oh, I got an owl today I thought you might like to see.”

This peaked her interest and she raised an eyebrow. “Did you?”

The Slytherin nodded. “Hand me my bag.”

Rose complied. A moment later, Scorpius drew out a heavy parchment envelope and handed it to her. She opened it to find an invitation to Draco and Hermione’s wedding. A small smile crept onto her face as she read words printed in elegant, grey script. When she finished, she looked up at Scorpius.

“I’m so happy for them,” she said.

Scorpius nodded in agreement.

“Have you told them yet?”

“About inviting Astoria to our graduation?”

She nodded.

“I wrote Dad the same day I sent the letter out to her,” Scorpius said. “He said if that’s what I want, he was fine with it, Mum too.”

“That’s good,” Rose said, giving him a quick kiss. “I told you they’d be alright with it.”

“I just hope it goes well,” Scorpius confessed. “I’m not expecting a miracle, though.”

“It will be fine,” Rose assured him. “You’ll see.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. As an afterthought: “You know, I was thinking… I mean, I’m guessing most of the family knows by now, but all the same—”

Rose’s brow furrowed and she looked confused. “What?”

“You can say no, of course—I mean, it was just a thought, in any case—”

“Godric’s sake, Scorp,” she interrupted, exasperated. “Spit it out.”

“I was wondering if you’d like us to attend as, you know, a formal couple,” he said finally, scratching the back of his head nervously.

The Head Girl’s face broke out into a wide smile. “Yes, I’d love that.”

He looked properly surprised for a second. “You would?”

“Of course, are you thick?” she laughed. “How could I say no to that?”

He shrugged in response. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted other people to know yet.”

“Darling, we’ve been back at Hogwarts and acting openly as a couple for over two weeks. I’m pretty sure the entire wizarding world knows you’re my boyfriend by now.”

The wizard smirked. “With how news travels around here, you may very well be right.”

* * *

(Two weeks later)

* * *

_THE FEATHER DOESN’T FALL FAR FROM THE PHOENIX  
by Skylar Fox, Witch Weekly _

_It was just nearly three years ago when we started getting word about a rumored relationship between former-Death Eater turned Post-War hero, Draco Malfoy and War heroine member of the Golden Trio, Hermione Granger, unceremoniously dubbed ‘Brightest Witch of the Age’, who had both gone through very high-profile divorces in previous years._

_The entire wizarding world recalls how the two were selected as Heads of Hogwarts when they returned to complete their education after the Second Wizarding War, and they both went on to work in the Ministry of Magic after sitting for their N.E.W.T. level examinations in the summer of 1999. Following his acquittal of all charges for his part in the War, Draco went on to become an indispensable part of the Auror Department, working shoulder-to-shoulder with Harry Potter to round up the dozens of Death Eaters still at large after Voldemort’s demise, before moving on to a marginally more quiet post in the Department of Magical Law-Enforcement following his marriage. Hermione first became notorious for her advances in litigation regarding House-Elf Rights in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and later on moved to the Department of Magical Law-Enforcement, which she currently heads, as well as being an acclaimed member of the Wizengamot. Rumor has it; the witch is the favored candidate for next year’s elections and may very well become our next Minister of Magic._

_Now, just a few weeks after the happy couple announced their impending nuptials, news of another unlikely couple have reached the ears of Witch Weekly’s correspondents. It would appear that within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the eldest daughter of Gryffindor’s beloved Princess and the only son of Slytherin’s undisputed Prince have found each other. You read it here first_ — _our sources report that Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy have been involved in a romantic relationship for some time now._

_As our readers may recall, Rose is Hermione Granger’s daughter from her first marriage to one Ron Weasley, former Auror and also a member of the famed Golden Trio. Scorpius is Draco Malfoy’s son from his first marriage to socialite Astoria Greengrass, and both teens are currently in their seventh year at Hogwarts, in Gryffindor and Slytherin House, respectively; they both serve as current Captain to each of their House Quidditch Teams in the position of Seeker, and are carrying out a term as Heads of the school._

_It becomes quite easy to draw parallels from the two’s budding relationship to that of Draco and Hermione. Childhood rivals from opposing houses turned unlikely lovers_ — _the world can only watch and wait to see if the new couple will find such a happy ending as their parents. For a full photo-spread of the young witch and wizard, see page 63._

* * *

( _Summer Montage/Madeline –_ May 17th – 11:58am – Transfiguration Classroom 1B – Hogwarts)

Rose turned in her test scroll, shooting the Ministry examiner and Professor Stronghold a proud smirk, before returning to her desk to collect her things. There were just a handful of students left out of those taking the N.E.W.T. exam for Theory of Transfiguration; Scorpius, Gaia, Sicily and Albus had all left the classroom before her. The following week they would be taking the practical portion of their N.E.W.T. When she stepped out to the corridor, the four, plus Gaia’s boyfriend Declan, were standing a little ways from the classroom, evidently discussing the test they had just taken. When Scorpius saw her approach them, he raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

She beamed at the lot. “Well, I can’t be sure—but I believe I’ve just successfully passed my Transfiguration N.E.W.T.”

The other five congratulated her and as the group headed down to lunch, they began discussing the test and one particular question that none of them had expected. It had been regarding an incident during the 1473 Quidditch World Cup in which a Chaser was transfigured into some sort of animal by a member of the opposing team; they were asked what animal it had been, and what possible spell the caster had used to achieve that effect.

“I’m telling you, it was a bobcat!” Scorpius argued.

“Please,” Albus scoffed. “I’m ninety percent sure I read it was a _polecat_.”

“I’m going to have to side with Al on this one,” Gaia said. “It was definitely a polecat.”

Scorpius scowled. “Well, there goes my O,” he lamented.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Rose scoffed. “You got an O on your O.W.L. despite not being able to Vanish anything. You were asked to switch an eagle’s talons with a golden retriever’s hind paws, whereas most of us were asked to Vanish a flock of canaries.”

Scorpius grinned fondly at the memory, and the others laughed.

“She’s right, Scorp,” Declan told him, an arm around Gaia’s shoulder as they walked. “You’ve got Irish luck—and it doesn’t hurt that Stronghold positively adores the shite out of you. She probably won’t let _one_ wrong answer on the theoretical bit ruin your chances at an O.”

“What do you think we’ll be asked to do on our practical?” Sicily asked.

“Probably some Human Transfiguration,” Albus suggested.

“What, on ourselves?” Rose asked, a light tone of worry in her voice.

The wizard shrugged. “Or on each other.”

“I don’t know,” Declan said, pondering the question. “We could always be asked to conjure something.”

“Maybe it’s both,” Gaia said. “Like during O.W.L.s, when different people were asked to do different things.”

“Then let’s hope some of your Irish luck rubs off on me then,” Rose told Scorpius. “And maybe I’ll get Conjuring instead of Human Transfiguration.”

Scorpius took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Either way, you’ll be fine.”

“He’s right,” Sicily said. “But if you want, we can practice some tonight after Quidditch practice—change each other’s facial features or hair color.”

Rose nodded in appreciation. “I’ll take all the help I can get at this point.”

The group neared the Great Hall just then; as they crossed the doors, the usual chatter died down slightly when everyone inside caught sight of Rose and Scorpius.

“It’s that bloody article,” the witch muttered as the rest of their group went to find seats at their respective House tables. “You’d think everyone might find something more interesting to talk about, with N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s going on.”

Scorpius squeezed her hand. “Don’t pay them any attention.”

“How come you’re so calm about all this?”

He shrugged. “If people want to talk, they’ll talk,” he said. “I’d not about to complain; and least they’re talking about something that’s making me happy, for once.”

Rose smiled at him. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“See?” Scorpius pecked a light kiss to her lips just before heading off to the Slytherin table.

* * *

(May 21st – 1:49pm – Great Hall – Hogwarts)

As the second half of the seventh year class—around sixteen or so students—filed into the Great Hall for their Defense Against the Dark Arts practical examination, a great deal of whispering ensued when they all caught sight of the Ministry-approved examiner standing next to Professor Specter. They took seats on a set of wooden bleachers that had been placed along one of the halls’ longer walls; the House tables and benches had been cleared out for the examination. Across from them, a long table had been set up along the other wall, and a panel of four other individuals had been seated, after two vacant chairs for the examiner and Professor Specter: Professor McGonagall, a tall, black wizard Rose faintly recognized but couldn’t place, Neville Longbottom, a younger, blonde witch and a wizard with dark, curly hair pulled back into a ponytail.

After they were all seated, Professor Specter stepped forward to introduce the examiner beside him. “Good afternoon, class. I’m well aware that you all recognize the wizard standing beside me, but nonetheless: I’d like to introduce to you all the esteemed Harry James Potter, Order of Merlin, First Class, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Head of the Auror Office, formerly known as _The Boy Who Lived_.”

Albus was sitting just down the row from Rose; she caught his eye and the two shared a proud smile before looking back to Harry. The wizard looked thoroughly embarrassed at his introduction, running a hand through his messy hair and pushing his spectacles further up on his nose before stepping forward to address them all.

“Professor Specter introduced me the same way to the rest of the seventh years this morning,” he began. “I’m afraid I’m still not used to any of those titles.”

There was a small ripple of laughter through the seventh years, and Harry smiled. “I’m guessing you weren’t expecting me.”

“That’s an understatement,” quipped Albus, shooting his father a grin, and the entire class laughed loudly at that. Even Harry and Professor Specter had to suppress chuckles.

“Alright, jokes aside, there’s only so much time on our hands and we’ve got to get through the lot of you in the next,” he glanced at his watch, “four hours, so I’ll cut to the chase. You will be dueling amongst yourselves today.”

A small pause in his speech allowed for a few seconds of whispers from the students, before he resumed his speech in what Rose had once heard her Aunt Ginny refer to as his _‘no-nonsense Auror voice’_. “During your O.W.L.s, you were asked to defend yourself against an array of magical creatures, and you were asked to produce, at the very least, a non-corporeal Patronus. This time around, you will be required to think on your feet—to defend yourselves against offensive magic, and retaliate in real time.

“You’ll be paired off at random, and each pair will have twenty minutes to duel. At the end of each duel, the panel will announce a victor, and the same panel—headed by myself—will mark you according to your performance during the duel. This means that even if you are not the winner, if your magic during the entire duel was sufficient, you may still receive an O on your N.E.W.T.”

He turned slightly to introduce the panel behind him: “Aside from Professor Specter and myself, the panel will also include these fantastic witches and wizards behind me.”

“Professor Minerva McGonagall, Order of Merlin, First Class, former member of the Order of the Phoenix and current Headmistress of this school,” McGonagall stood up, offered a brief smile to the students and resumed her seat.

“Kingsley Shacklebolt,” Harry said next, pointing to the tall, black wizard, who Rose suddenly recognized at the mention of his name. “Order of Merlin, First Class, Minister of Magic between 1998 and 2008, former Auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix and current member of the International Confederation of Wizards.

“Professor Neville Longbottom, Order of Merlin, Second Class, former member and leader of Dumbledore’s Army during the Second Wizarding War and current Herbology Professor here at Hogwarts,” Neville stood as McGonagall and Kingsley had before him, blushing profusely, and resumed his seat after a brief nod.

“Katie Bell, former Chaser for the Wimbourne Wasps, current coach for the English National Quidditch Team and former member of Dumbledore’s Army,” Harry said next, pointing to the blonde witch beside Neville.

“And Lee Jordan, co-founder of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, inventor of the Decoy Detonator and current Director of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes Defense Against the Dark Arts branch of merchandise, also a former member of Dumbledore’s Army,” Rose also recognized the dark-skinned wizard as an old friend of her Uncle George, sometimes seen around the Burrow or in one of their shops.

“Now, to get right to business,” Harry went on, as Professor Specter took his seat at the panel. Harry took a small velvet bag from the pocket of his robes, giving it a good shake. “In here are sixteen slips of parchment, each one with one of your names on it. I’m going to take two at a time, and the students called out will duel in front of all of us. The rules are simple, just hexes and jinxes and other offensive spells, Shield Charms, Disarming and Stunning Spells allowed, and everything is to be entirely non-verbal, except for Shield Charms, which you will be allowed to speak out. Anyone to violate these rules will be disqualified and as such, their mark will suffer the consequences.”

He moved to take two slips of parchment from the bag. “First off are… Rose Weasley—and Francesca Zabini.”

Rose blinked, feeling as twenty-two pairs of eyes turned to look at her, and then at Francesca, who was sitting at the other end of the row below her.

_Fucking brilliant._

* * *

( _No Good –_ May 21st – 2:01pm – Great Hall – Hogwarts)

Rose felt Scorpius give her hand a brief squeeze, and very calmly stepped down from her seat to join Harry in the middle of the room, watching as Francesca did the same, both witches discarding their robes and rolling up the sleeves of their jumpers and shirts, taking out their wands a moment later. The two hadn’t spoken a word to each other in months, not since the incident in Hogsmeade, and it was evident from the tension in the air that their rivalry was still very much present.

Harry instructed each witch as to where she was to stand, marking a line in the very center of the Hall. He then stepped back to lean back against the panel table, and instructed that they draw their wands and assume their positions. Rose kept a tight grip on the wooden handle of her wand, the words to a Jelly Legs curse already beginning to form in her head.

“Alright, you have twenty minutes to successfully disarm or otherwise incapacitate your opponent,” Harry said. “Duel.”

The words had barely left his mouth when a jet of light burst from the end of Rose’s wand; Francesca was quick to react, dodging the curse and retaliating in a second. Rose, however, was just as quick, shielding herself from Francesca’s spell and quickly whirling around to send another jinx. It grazed the Slytherin’s arm and burned her, causing a number of swollen blisters to appear on the exposed skin of her forearm. The witch hissed in pain and her green eyes narrowed, she shot Rose a vicious Stinging Jinx that caught her left shoulder, Rose cried out as she felt two or three bites swell up underneath the fabric of her uniform.

The Head Girl was properly incensed then, and shot back within a second. A minute later, the rest could only watch as the two witches fired curses mercilessly at each other, dodging or deflecting them with such speed it was difficult for some of the students to keep up with what was going on. Rose was almost a blur, deflecting Francesca’s offense and shooting back just as fast, her red hair practically crackling with electricity as her magic coursed through the room towards the other witch. Francesca’s dark hair, pulled up in a ponytail away from her face, whipped around with every move the witch made, jets of light firing from the end of her wand with every spell.

Francesca sent a particularly strong hex towards her opponent that prickled everyone’s skin as it flashed by, but the Shield Charm Rose put up in a millisecond was so strong that it blew their hair back; the spell collided with the shield, threatening to crack it, and the two witches focused all their effort onto that collision point. Rose groaned with exertion, her shout out almost feral as she gave her Shield Charm an extra surge of energy that ultimately overpowered Francesca’s spell and sent the witch flying back a few meters towards the front of the hall.

The witch managed to roll and land crouching on her toes, standing and in a heartbeat and beginning to hurl curses at Rose with a fierce growl. Rose met her spell for spell and the two continued dueling for what felt like hours but in reality were only minutes. A well-aimed hex from Francesca split the Head Girl’s lip and tossed her back for good measure, and she wiped blood off her chin before retaliating just as viciously. Neither of them knew if the duel had escalated past what was allowed in terms of offensive magic, but as none of the panel intervened to stop them, the two continued.

Finally, Rose managed to catch Francesca off guard with a strong Disarming Spell that knocked her off her feet. She caught the Slytherin’s wand as it soared towards her with the unfailing skill of a long-time Seeker, but when she made to approach the Slytherin to fire one last hex, panting with the effort of the previous minutes, something in Francesca’s face made her stop.

The brunette was still on the stone floor, her chest heaving with the effort to catch her breath, and the harsh reality of coming in second to Rose Weasley once more was evident in the disappointment and sadness in her eyes. For a moment, Rose felt something akin to sympathy for her sworn enemy, and she frowned, realizing then exactly how silly it was—all of it, the insults, the taunting and every other mean-spirited thing they had ever done to each other. It hadn’t all been for a bloke, surely, but it was pointless, all the same.

She resumed her motion to approach Francesca, well aware of the fact that the students sitting on the bleachers were still watching her every move with baited breath. But instead of hexing her, the witch offered her upturned hand to the Slytherin—a peace offering. Francesca hesitated, eyeing Rose’s hand with obvious mistrust, but then she saw the corners of the Gryffindor’s mouth turn up in a friendly, albeit slight, smile. Her scowl relaxed, and she took Rose’s hand; the witch helped her to her feet, returning Francesca’s wand a second later.

“Good duel,” Rose said, nodding to the Slytherin, shaking the hand she had yet to release.

Francesca nodded in return. “Likewise.”

Harry stepped forward just as the two witches released each other, applauding. The rest of the panel joined him, and then the students, who cheered and whistled for both witches.

“I think it’s pretty safe to say Rose is the victor,” Harry said, his voice silencing the noise. “But all the same, the two of you did remarkably well. It’s a shame neither of you had been born during the War,” he joked with a wink. “We could’ve used you. Very nicely done.”

The two witches smiled at him proudly.

“Thank you,” Francesca said.

“Thanks, Uncle Harry,” Rose grinned.

* * *

 

( _Bullet –_ May 27th – 8:36am – 7th year Girls Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower – Hogwarts)

Rose stepped out of the lavatory, dressed in her uniform shirt and skirt, drying the tips of her hair with a towel before massaging some Sleak-Eazy into it and drying it completely with her wand. Audrey rushed to take over the bathroom next, and Rose sat carefully on the bed, putting on her knee-high socks and shoes as one of Gaia’s records—Franz Ferdinand’s _Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Action_ —played in the background. Gaia herself was getting ready in front of the vanity, while Sicily was in front of the mirror doing her tie. The two witches were discussing Rose and Francesca’s duel from a few days prior—for what must’ve been the hundredth time. Rose rolled her eyes.

“And the way she just blocked the curse Zabini sent at her and shot back that _Impendimenta_ ,” Sicily was saying. “I’ve never seen anyone move so quickly.”

“I’ve half a mind to start eating exactly what Rose eats to see if I get some skills like those,” Gaia said, painstakingly applying a heavy coat of mascara to her long lashes.

“And _I’ve_ half a mind to hex you both into next week if you don’t stop talking about it already,” Rose told them off.

Sicily frowned. “Well, you can’t really expect us to just forget how amazing you were,” she protested.

“Or the fact that you and Zabini called an unofficial truce to your long-term enmity,” Gaia said. “It’s the most shocking thing to happen since you and Scorpius first got together.”

“Or since Gaia and Declan went public,” Sicily added.

Becca, already fully dressed, was in the middle of making her bed, and was nearest to the window when an unfamiliar barn owl perched itself just outside. “Oi,” she called to the others. “Rose, this is for you.”

The Head Girl finished nimbly knotting her tie and took the letter the brunette offered her. “Thanks, Becca.”

“Who’s that from?” Gaia asked.

Rose turned over the envelope, reading the name on the parchment a moment later. “Wolfgang Spiegelman, Director of International Magical Cooperation,” she said, a sudden feeling of nervousness settling in the very pit of her stomach.

“Oh, Godric.”

Sicily walked over to her, and Gaia and Becca had both stopped what they were doing to look at her as well.

“This is it,” Rose said.

“Open it!” Becca urged her. Sicily nodded in agreement.

“But what if I didn’t get it?” Rose asked, panic in her amber eyes.

“You’ll have to find out one way or another,” Gaia shrugged, shooting the witch a sympathetic smile. “Besides, they’d have to be off their rockers not to take you—just open it, it’ll be fine.”

Giving her best friend a weak smile of thanks, Rose broke the wax seal on the envelope, extracting the parchment within. Her wide eyes scanned the page quickly, but she said nothing, which prompted Sicily to read out loud over her shoulder.

“‘Miss Weasley, I am beyond pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to commence an internship in our department come September first, regarding preparations for the next Quidditch World Cup’— _Sweet Circe_ , you got it!”

“I got it,” Rose said numbly. Sicily hugged her quickly, but it wasn’t until Gaia, Becca and Audrey, who had just emerged from her shower, approached to congratulate her that she became properly excited. “Holy shit, I got it!”

* * *

(Meanwhile)

* * *

( _Portuguese Knife Fight –_ May 27th – 8:36am – 7th year Boy’s Dormitory, Slytherin Quarters – Hogwarts)

Cage The Elephant was playing loudly in the dormitory—courtesy of Declan’s music collection—when Scorpius left the bathroom, half-dressed after his shower. Albus was only just getting up from his own four-poster, groggily donning his spectacles and ruffling his already messy bed head.

“’Morning, sunshine,” Scottie quipped, donning his jumper over his shirt and tie. “Sleep alright?”

Scorpius chuckled to himself when he heard Albus murmur something that sounded a lot like _‘tosser_ ’ before the latter disappeared into the bathroom, presumably for a shower.

“Potter’s such a lovely spirit in the mornings,” Declan commented, lounging on his bed, his tie discarded on the comforter beside him, contributing to his general air of leisure.

“You look relaxed,” Scorpius told his roommate.

The wizard shrugged. “I’ve got no exams today.”

Scorpius and Scottie shared a look before scowling at Declan. “Wanker,” they said in unison.

“What’ve you got?” Scorpius asked Scottie.

“Practical Herbology. You?”

“Ancient Runes.”

“Blimey,” the wizard blanched. “Good luck with that one.”

Scorpius smirked. “I don’t need luck, mate. I got something better.”

“Oh?”

“Hermione Granger as a personal tutor.”

Scottie and Declan laughed. “Fair point,” the former acquiesced.

“Don’t you have Arithmancy tomorrow, Mr. Rest and Relaxation?” Scorpius asked Declan.

“I’m meeting Gaia in the library before she takes Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon,” the wizard replied. “I figure I’ll go up to breakfast with you lot.”

Just then, their last missing roommate, Landon Cooper, opened the door to the dormitory, closing it behind him after he entered. “About time you got up,” he said to Scorpius. “I got mail for all of you,” he added, tossing an envelope to each of them. “Scottie, your mum wrote again, third time this month, honestly, we’ve got to get you a bird—Declan, that’s yours—and—head’s up, Scorp.”

Scorpius caught the envelope with ease, turning it to find it was from Wolfgang Spiegelman, Director of International Magical Cooperation. “Shite,” he said.

“What is it?” asked Scottie.

“It’s from the Ministry—about that internship I applied for,” he explained.

“And?” Cooper pressed. “What does it say?”

“I can’t very well know if I haven’t opened it, can I?”

“Then open it, you git!” Declan scolded him, sitting up in his bed.

Albus emerged from the lavatory, drying his dark hair with a towel and looking thoroughly more awake than he had ten minutes prior. “What are you all yelling about like a bunch of old broads?”

“Malfoy got an answer about his internship,” Scottie explained.

“And?” Albus asked. “Did you get it?”

“We don’t bloody know!” Cooper complained.

“The prick won’t open the letter to see what it says!” added Declan.

“Alright, alright!” Scorpius nearly shouted. He practically ripped the envelope open and very nearly tore the letter in two in his haste to read its contents.

“‘Dear Mister Malfoy,’” he read aloud, “‘I am thrilled to inform you that you have been accepted to intern with us beginning this September first, to commence work on the preparations for the next Quidditch World C— _Salazar’s left bollock_!” Scorpius exclaimed, looking up from the letter at his elated roommates. “I got it!”

* * *

( _Perfect Day -_ May 27th – 9:23am – Great Hall – Hogwarts)

Rose was in the midst of deciding whether she wanted coffee or pumpkin juice with her full English; across from her, Gaia and Sicily were in an animated discussion about the Care of Magical Creatures practical exam they would be taking later on that afternoon. The Head Girl’s eyes turned to watch the doors to the Great Hall every few seconds, anticipating the moment Scorpius would be up for breakfast, as she had failed to spot him at the Slytherin table upon arriving in the hall.

“You need to relax,” Gaia told her. “You’re watching the doors so often it looks like you have a twitch in your neck.”

Rose sighed as she served herself coffee, waving her wand over it to cast the spell her mother had taught her. “I just have no idea what to say to him. What if he didn’t get it?”

“Then you’ll figure it out together,” Sicily said. “No use worrying yourself sick about it.”

The Head Girl took a reluctant bite of her breakfast. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Oh, there he is now,” Gaia said, pointing towards the doors with her fork. Rose turned to find Scorpius entering the hall with his roommates, his grey eyes scanning the Gryffindor table until they locked onto her. Then he smiled broadly, and Rose realized she’d been worried over nothing. Smiling back at him, she got up from her seat and ran down the table towards him.

“You got it?” he asked as she approached.

“Yes!”

She practically jumped into his arms and he spun her around, the both of them completely oblivious to the fact that most of the students in the Hall were watching them.

“Wait!” Rose said and he put her down, but his arms stayed locked around her waist. “You _did_ get picked too, right?”

Scorpius looked at her as though she was being quite daft. “Of course, I did—I mean, that’s not to say I’m not thrilled for you, because I am—but particularly, I’m thrilled that we both got it.”

Rose beamed at him. “Good. See, I told you they’d want us both—there was nothing to worry about.”

“Really, Weasley? _That’s_ what you’re going to say to me right now?” the Head Boy asked incredulously. “‘ _I told you so’?_ ”

The Gryffindor let out a short bark of laughter before kissing him soundly. “I’m sorry—I meant, congratulations.”

Scorpius smirked. “Congratulations to you, too.”

“… But for the record, I _did_ tell you so.”

* * *

( _Perfect Day_ \- May 29th – 11:17am – Potions Classroom – Hogwarts)

Rose and Scorpius nervously waited and watched as Professor Bates and Professor Silverstone, the Ministry examiner, stood over at the first table, examining Anika Devon and Leo Goldstein’s Amortentia.

“The sheen is alright—slightly more pink than one would regularly anticipate, though,” Silverstone, a short, plump witch, commented with a frown. “It could’ve been corrected with a little more silverweed… Other than that, it seems satisfactory.”

Anika and Leo let out an audible sigh of relief when Silverstone moved on to the next potion: “Francesca Zabini and Oliver Statham—Veritaserum.”

The witch narrowed her eyes and peered over her half-moon spectacles at the potion that so closely resembled plain, boiling water. “Hm… Let’s see. The color—or lack thereof—seems alright…” she lightly scooped up a bit of the clear liquid and let it drop back into the cauldron “Perfect consistency… No noticeable odor. Nicely done.”

She moved on. “Gaia Davies and Ronan Nichols… Felix Felicis.”

From where she stood, Rose could make out Gaia’s knees trembling inside her skirt, and a very slight sheen could be seen on Ronan’s brow as Silverstone examined their cauldron. “The color seems satisfactory,” she noted, looking closely at the thick, golden liquid. She gave it a good sniff— “hmm, a slight smell of honey—not particularly unpleasant, but could’ve been avoided by adding less Dandelion root…” She didn’t scoop any out as she had with Francesca and Oliver’s potion, but rather let it jump merrily about on its own. “Nice structure… Alright.”

Rose’s insides twisted into a tight not as the examiner approached them. “And lastly—” only the slight pause of recognition as she read their names off the sheet of parchment in her hand, “—Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy—Polyjuice Potion.”

The two nodded, watching as Silverstone looked over their cauldron. “Color is spot-on,” she said. “As is the smell and texture,” she scooped some out into two glasses. “Do you two mind if we test out how it changes with your hairs?”

The two shook their heads.

“No, not at all—”

“Please do—”

Rose handed over a couple of thick, curly, dark red hairs; Scorpius did the same with his own fine, platinum ones. The examiner dropped each into a different glass and both potions simmered and frothed. The glass that held Rose’s hair turned the precise color and clarity of pink wine; the one with Scorpius’ thickened slightly and settled on a silver sheen.

“A quick, smooth transition and a nice, thick froth,” Silverstone commented. She then took each glass in turn and smelled it. Of Rose’s potion, she said: “Spicy, almost like fresh-ground pepper… But it has a sweeter undertone to it as well.” When she smelled Scorpius’ potion: “Oh, quite nice. Fresh, minty… A hint of citrus, as well. Maybe lemon.”

She finally set both glasses down, gave the potion in the cauldron one final stir for consistency, and nodded in a satisfied manner. “This appears to be a perfect batch.”

The Head Boy and Girl glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes—unless they were very much mistaken, they had just achieved an O on their Advanced Potions N.E.W.T. They managed to hold it together while Professor Silverstone gave them final notes and comments on their concoctions, staggering their celebration until the witch and Professor Bates had dismissed them and closed the door to the Potions classroom behind them. Out in the corridor however, the two kissed and laughed, also congratulating Gaia and her partner. As Scorpius began to chat with Gaia and Leo Goldstein about the possible effects of an extra bit of silverweed in the latter’s Amortentia, an unexpected face came over to congratulate Rose.

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as she saw Francesca approaching.

“Hello,” said the Slytherin.

“Oh—er, hi,” the Head Girl replied.

The brunette tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and teetered on the edge of speech for a moment. “I—I just wanted to congratulate you. I think it’s pretty safe to say you two got an O.”

Rose’s eyebrows rose in further surprise. “Oh. Er—thank you. You two, I mean—your Veritaserum was pretty much perfect. I’m sure you got an O as well.”

The corners of Francesca’s mouth turned up only slightly. “Thank you.”

The sound of Gaia’s voice calling her name made Rose turn to where her friend stood with Scorpius. “We’re going up for luncheon,” Gaia said. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Rose replied. Turning to Francesca: “I’ll er—I’ll see you around, yeah?”

The Slytherin nodded. “See you.”

With a small smile, Rose walked away in the direction of the other two, following them up the staircase.

“Is anyone else going to comment about the hippogriff in the room or should I?” Gaia asked.

“I assume,” Scorpius replied, “that you’re referring to the fact that Rose and Francesca just had a conversation without anyone getting hexed, cursed or, in general terms, injured.”

“Well, yeah,” the brunette said. To Rose: “I don’t know how it felt, but that looked weird as all hell.”

The Head Girl shrugged. “It was alright. Stranger things have happened.”

* * *

 

(June 3rd – 2:38pm – Quidditch Pitch – Hogwarts)

Rose was in the middle of putting on her gear when she heard Conrad MacLaggen calling out to her as he entered the locker room. She turned to acknowledge the wizard, and he pointed to the door.

“There’s some people out there who want to see you,” he said.

Rose frowned. “Who?”

Conrad only shrugged, now turning to his own locker to get ready. On the bench in front of him, Sicily was looking a bit queasy as she tied the laces of her boots tightly—apparently Rose’s Aunt Ginny was looking to replace one of her Chasers on the Holyhead Harpies and was interested in watching Sicily play. Rose gave her friend a comforting pat on the back.

“You’ll be great,” she assured the blonde.

Sicily answered with a weak smile. Rose walked over to the door, strapping on her fingerless leather gloves as she did so. When she stepped outside into the hall, she spotted them instantly: her mother, Draco and Scorpius, all dressed in Gryffindor colors. She rushed over to them, smiling from ear to ear.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she embraced her mother.

“You didn’t really expect us to miss your last match?” Hermione countered.

“Well, no,” Rose granted. “But I certainly wasn’t expecting to see not one, but two Malfoys wearing Gryffindor colors to a Quidditch match.”

Draco chuckled. “I figure my bigoted, conceited ancestors have already done a few somersaults in their graves, with my choices in the past few years. One more little roll won’t do much harm.”

Rose laughed. “And you?” she asked of Scorpius.

The wizard, wearing a dark red shirt and what looked like her own Gryffindor scarf, shrugged. “If I couldn’t make it to the Cup, you can’t honestly think I’m going to start supporting Ravenclaw over you,” he said, obviously appalled at the notion.

Rose smiled at him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I have to go finish getting ready,” she told the three of them.

“We’ll go and find our seats,” Hermione said. “Good luck!”

Just as she was turning to reenter the locker room, Draco’s voice called her back. Hermione and Scorpius had already walked halfway back down the hall to go to the stands, but the elder wizard was watching her with a small smile.

“Yeah?”

Draco scratched at his beard nervously for a moment. “Well, I hadn’t gotten the chance to really tell you—your mother told me that Ron had mentioned what you said to him about me the day you ran into him.”

Rose had expected this. “Oh. She did?”

Draco nodded. “I just wanted to say that—I’m very proud that you consider me your father, even though you don’t really have to and I might not even deserve it—”

“Nonsense,” Rose silenced him, now smiling. “You’ve been the best dad I could ask for, these past few years.”

Draco smiled at her. “All the same. I consider you my daughter as well, and—well, I just wanted to say I’m very proud of you.”

Rose walked up and hugged him tightly, and he did the same. “Thank you, Dad.”

Draco wasn’t exactly an emotional sort of person, and he would deny until his deathbed it if anyone asked, but he had to blink away a couple tears just then. “Catch that Snitch today, alright, Rosie?”

“Will do.”

* * *

( _Wonderland_ \- June 3 rd – 3:01pm – Quidditch Pitch – Hogwarts)

“Welcome, welcome, Hogwarts!” Frankie Jones’ voice rang out across the pitch. “Lovely weather we’re having today—perfect for a Quidditch Cup Final if I do say so myself! The stands are positively bursting at the seams with supporters ready to watch as Ravenclaw and Gryffindor duke it out to see who will become the winner of this year’s Cup! We’ve even had a lovely turnout of parents come to watch the match—I can spot Hermione Granger and former Slytherin House Seeker Draco Malfoy with current Slytherin Captain Scorpius Malfoy, congratulations on that engagement—wait, blimey, it looks like both Malfoys are wearing Gryffindor colors!”

The crowd erupted into cheers when they caught sight of the two blonde wizards and the rest of the people with them. “That’s certainly something you don’t see everyday—all in the name of love, folks. Lovely. And next to Hermione Granger, we have the one and only Harry Potter, former Gryffindor House Seeker and his charming wife, Ginny Potter, former Gryffindor Chaser, former Chaser and current coach for the Holyhead Harpies, along with their two sons—James, Al, how are you—no doubt come to see the youngest Potter, Lily, play today, for Ravenclaw, of course, but all’s well—All in the family, right?”

“Now, I give you—the Ravenclaw House team!”

One half of the stands went into absolute uproar as Frankie announced the players and they zoomed out onto the pitch: “Whitby! Preece! Potter! Adams! Garcia! Rickett! Aaaand _Scott!”_

The other half of the stands, clad in red and gold, went mad when Frankie went on: “And the Gryffindor House team! Sterling! MacLaggen! Van der Laar! Phillips! Goldstein! Stretton! Aaaand _Weasley!”_

Rose circled the pitch once, blowing the hair of the onlookers as she went, before taking her position in the middle of the pitch with Madam Hooch and Blake Rickett, the Ravenclaw Captain and Keeper.

“Captains, shake hands.”

She reluctantly shook the Ravenclaw’s hand, scowling, and he smirked at her.

 _Git_.

“Mount your brooms.”

And the crowd—both sides—positively lost it when Hooch released the balls to begin the game.

* * *

( _Wonderland_ \- June 3 rd – 3:52pm – Quidditch Pitch – Hogwarts)

“Almost an hour into the game folks, and things are heating up!” Frankie’s voice called out. “The score is ninety to seventy with Ravenclaw in the lead—Gryffindor currently in possession—both Seekers circling the pitch for a sign of the Snitch—Jackie Sterling making her way across the pitch—Vincent Preece blocks her—she passes to Van der Laar— _she_ makes her way towards the hoops, but oh! She’s dropped the Quaff—wait! MacLaggen appears almost literally out of thin air and catches it—was that on purpose? Conrad MacLaggen nears the Slytherin hoops, he passes Preece—ducks under Potter—he shoots—SCORE!”

And the Gryffindor side of the pitch cheered.

“Eighty to ninety with Ravenclaw still in the lead—Ravenclaw Keeper Blake Rickett retrieves the Quaffle and passes it to Preece—Preece to Whitby— _Ouch!_ Sabrina Whitby almost knocked off her broom by a Bludger from Phillips—Gryffindor in possession once more—Sicily Van der Laar flies back towards the Ravenclaw hoops—blimey, she can play—I’ve been saying it for years and she still won’t go out with me—”

“JONES!” came the reprimand from a stern-looking Professor McGonagall.

“Just an observation, Professor—Van der Laar dangerously close to the Ravenclaw hoops—dodges a bludger from Toby Garcia—swerves to avoid Lily Potter—Van der Laar shoots— _SCORE!_ Gryffindor ties with Ravenclaw at ninety points—Vincent Preece has the Quaffle again—passes to Potter—Lily Potter makes her way towards the Gryffindor posts—she passes to Whitby—Whitby dodges MacLaggen but takes a Bludger to the side from Holly Goldstein—she drops the Quaffle and Jackie Sterling catches it—she heads back up the pitch— _Ouch!_ Sterling takes a Bludger to the arm from Rylie Adams—that looked like it hurt—effective, either way—Preece takes the Quaffle back up in the other direction—passes to Potter—Lily Potter now up against Andy Stretton—she shoots—SCORE! Ravenclaw takes the lead again—”

Rose did her best to tune out most of what was going on, instead focusing on trying to catch a hint of the Snitch; on the other side of the pitch, she could see Eugenia Scott—Scorpius’ roommate’s little sister—trying to do the same. Still, the Gryffindor couldn’t help listening in to see how Sicily was playing, and in the following minutes, Jackie managed to tie the score again.

“—and Duncan Phillips of Gryffindor nearly knocks Vincent Preece off his broom with a well-aimed Bludger that seems to have knocked the wind out of him—Van der Laar takes the Quaffle—passes to MacLaggen—he passes to Sterling—back to Van der Laar—Potter intervenes—Lily Potter takes the Quaffle—passes to Whitby—Whitby to Preece, looks like he’s recovered from that hit—Van der Laar steals it back—now we’re talking—she looks _unstoppable_ —she passes Preece—swerves to avoid a Bludger from Adams—she’s just up against Rickett now—she shoots— _SCORE!_ Gryffindor takes the lead, one-ten to a hundred!”

* * *

 

( _Wonderland_ \- June 3 rd – 4:21pm – Quidditch Pitch – Hogwarts)

Scorpius watched from the stands, finding himself cheering madly as Gryffindor scored again and Frankie Jones called out the score: “One-fifty to one-ten in favor of Gryffindor—Rickett doesn’t seem to be on his best game today—such a shame—well, not really, but you lot know what I mean—”

“ _Jones!”_

"Sorry, Professor! Anyway, Lily Potter of Ravenclaw now in possession—she makes her way back to the Gryffindor posts—dodges MacLaggen—passes Sterling—nearly slams into Van Der Laar—she shoots—SCORE! Ravenclaw brings their total up to one-twenty, Gryffindor still leads by thirty points—Whoa! Looks like Rose Weasley's spotted the Snitch, she dives like a bullet—Eugenia Scott in close pursuit—FOUL! —YOU LOUSY, CHEATING—I'm sorry, Professor, but did you _see that_?!—Anyway, for those of you who missed it, Vincent Preece illegally blocks Weasley and sends her spinning off course—the Snitch is lost again—"

"You dirty, cheating _motherfucker_!"

Scorpius yelled out angrily, flipping the Ravenclaw Chaser off for good measure. Beside him, Draco was cursing Preece out in a similar fashion while Hermione watched with silent concern as Rose managed to regain control of her broom. Madam Hooch was telling Preece off for the foul, and ordered a penalty shot for Gryffindor.

“—Conrad MacLaggen takes the penalty after that heinous, shameless bit of cheating—”

“Jones…”

“Alright, alright—I’m just saying—MacLaggen scores the penalty shot for Gryffindor, one-sixty to Ravenclaw’s one-twenty—and Hollie Goldstein lands an obviously retaliatory Bludger on the back of Preece’s head, making him drop the Quaffle—atta girl—”

“He reminds me of Lee,” Hermione was telling Draco, who nodded.

“Bloody Jordan—his commentary was half the reason anyone came to watch the matches in the first place,” Draco replied with a reluctant smirk. The two, plus Scorpius, cheered as Sicily put away another goal for Gryffindor.

“—Ravenclaw in possession again—Whitby has the quaffle—she passes to Preece— _slimy git_ —Sorry, Professor—Preece to Potter—back to Whitby—Potter again—she shoots—SCORE!”

Scorpius groaned as the Ravenclaw side of the stands cheered for Lily, while Hermione and Draco clapped (albeit a bit reluctantly).

“Some arm Lily’s got,” Draco told Harry.

“Well, she _is_ the spawn of the Chosen One,” Harry quipped.

Beside him, Ginny rolled her eyes. “Right, because being able to ride a broom from the age of two and having a mother who was a professional Quidditch player had nothing to do with it.”

Harry and the others laughed. “Only joking, love.”

* * *

 

( _Wonderland_ \- June 3 rd – 4:57pm – Quidditch Pitch – Hogwarts)

“—Sicily Van der Laar drops the Quaffle after a nasty Bludger from Garcia—Sabrina Whitby catches it—makes her way up the pitch—the score is tied at two hundred-ten points—Whitby passes to Preece—Preece dodges MacLaggen—passes Sterling—Preece passes to Potter—Potter with the Quaffle now—but wait—the Seekers are moving again—yep, Eugenia Scott has definitely got a sighting!”

Almost everyone in the stands was on their feet, watching as Eugenia soared around the pitch in pursuit of the tiny Snitch, with Rose trailing only a couple meters behind her. The two blew Scorpius’ hair back as they passed where the group was sitting.

“Come on, Rose!”

“Get it!”

“ _Rose!”_

Beside him, Draco was cheering her on and Hermione was grabbing onto the railing, also shouting as Rose managed to catch up to Eugenia and the two continued chasing the Snitch.

“—Rose Weasley catches up and now they’re neck and neck—the Chasers and Beaters have stopped moving to watch them—Scott tries to push her off but Weasley’s hanging on without much effort—they’ve almost got it now—GODRIC’S SAKE, ROSE, _GET IT_ —Weasley stretches, so does Scott— _AND SHE’S DONE IT_ —ROSE WEASLEY HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!”

“ _YES!”_ Scorpius cheered as Rose circled the pitch, holding the still-struggling Snitch in her outstretched hand.

“The final score is three-hundred and sixty points to two-hundred and ten—GRYFFINDOR WINS THE CUP!”

The roar of the cheering crowd was almost deafening and beside him, Hermione was crying and Draco was pumping his fist in the air, whistling. A few moments later, they were all spilling out onto the pitch and he was pushing—shoving—his way through the crowd surrounding the team as Sicily and Duncan held up the silver Quidditch Cup, almost trampling a bunch of screaming first years in his attempt to reach her. He called out her name and she turned, flushed and beaming, also pushing her way through the crowd before she jumped into his arms, kissing him soundly on the mouth, the Snitch still in her hand.

“We did it!” she screamed, almost in tears. “We’ve won!”


	6. Dearly Beloved, We Are Gathered Here Not To Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a line of dialogue from Season 3, Episode 3: My Old Kentucky Home, of my all-time favorite TV show—Mad Men—and was just too perfect for this chapter not to use it.
> 
> Songs mentioned:
> 
> Budapest – George Ezra  
> Life Is A Song – Patrick Park  
> Let It Go – James Bay  
> Blackbird – The Beatles  
> Canon in D Major – Pachebel   
> The Blower’s Daughter – Damien Rice

 

Dearly Beloved, We Are Gathered Here Not To Fight

Or

_Budapest_

* * *

(June 9th – 10:52am – Entrance Hall – Hogwarts)

Rose smoothed out the shiny satin of her dark red robes, adjusting the Head Girl badge on her chest and the Quidditch Captain badge next to it as she waited in the queue behind Liam Wallace. She took to looking out the window beside her, watching the congregation of family members arriving in the courtyard. She could spot Hermione with Hugo, Ginny, Harry, James and Lily; Draco was a little ways off, chatting with Blaise Zabini—Francesca’s father—and his wife. Near them were Gaia’s dad, Roger, and her mother, chatting with Sicily’s parents.

She could also spot a few of her teammates; Duncan, Jackie and Hollie all had siblings that were graduating today. A few moments later, she watched as a slender, dark haired witch approached Draco and began chatting amicably with him before Hermione popped over to say hello—she couldn’t be sure from this distance, but she guessed it must be Astoria.

She watched with a fair bit of dread as a tall, red-headed figure approached the group, first greeting her aunt, uncle and cousins; Hugo shook Ron Weasley’s hand stiffly before moving away to where Duncan was standing with his and Becca’s parents. Hermione came over a barely a minute later, greeting Ron with a quick hug; Ron shook Draco’s hand with obvious reluctance, but Rose was distracted from watching any more of the exchange by the sight of Scorpius walking towards her in his emerald green robes, his Head Boy and Captain badges shiny on his chest.

“Well, don’t you look dashing,” she smiled at him.

“I clean up alright,” he shrugged, leaning in for a quick kiss. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, once again running her hands over her robe.

“Nervous?” he chuckled, and she almost laughed as well.

“About which part?” she asked. “My speech, or the feeling of impending doom I got just by watching Ron arrive?”

“He came?” Scorpius asked, his blonde eyebrows shooting upwards.

Rose nodded, pointing out to the courtyard. “See for yourself.”

He looked out and spotted the wizard walking with his sister and Harry as the families began to walk away from the courtyard towards the lawn. “I didn’t think he actually would.”

“Me neither,” Rose admitted. “I don’t even know what I’ll say to him—if I even talk to him that is.”

“It’ll be fine,” Scorpius assured her. A few seconds of silence followed before Rose spoke again.

“Did you see Astoria?”

“From a distance,” he replied. “Doesn’t look too different from how I remember her, though.”

Rose nodded in understanding, giving his hand a squeeze. “It’ll be fine, alright?”

He nodded, and but was interrupted by the sound of Professor Stronghold’s voice calling from the front of the queue.

“Mister Malfoy! Please resume your spot; we’re about to head out.”

He nodded to the witch, turning around quickly to place a quick kiss on Rose’s forehead and slip a small roll of parchment into her hand, which Rose quickly discovered contained her speech. She shot him a questioning look as he walked away.

“So you won’t forget,” he said. “You’ll do brilliant!”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” she rolled her eyes, stowing her speech in the pocket of her robes before the queue began to move forward.

* * *

 

( _Life Is A Song_ \- June 9 th – 11:12am – Grounds – Hogwarts)

The queue of seventh years was lead out onto the grounds by Professor Stronghold, to a grassy area near the lake where row after row of chairs were placed facing the water. A small stage, where all the professors had already been seated at a long table, was placed near the water. It was a lovely, clear day, with only a couple clouds visible on the horizon, and the summer had not yet become stiflingly hot, but was still pleasantly warm.

All the family members had already been seated, but the first rows of vacant chairs were reserved for the graduates. Professor Stronghold lead them to their seats, and after they were all seated, McGonagall rose from her chair and took to the podium to give a short speech. Rose allowed her mind to drift for the next few minutes, looking out at the vastness of the Black Lake, until her attention was commanded by the Headmistress’ voice saying her name.

“—and now, our Head Girl, Gryffindor House Quidditch Captain and this year’s Valedictorian, Rose Weasley, will say a few words in representation of the seventh year class.”

Painfully aware of the fact that everyone in attendance was watching her closely, Rose got up from her seat and mounted the stage, her legs trembling only slightly as she approached the podium where McGonagall stood. She gave the Professor a quick hug before taking her place, taking the scroll of parchment out of her pocket just as the Headmistress muttered a charm to magnify her voice.

She looked down at the words in Scorpius’ neat penmanship that she had memorized from practicing them so frequently in the past few days, then looked up at the crowd of students, parents and family members all watching her. She quickly spotted her own family somewhere in the middle.

“Hello,” she began, slightly startled at the sound of her own magnified voice. “Students, faculty, parents and family—I’m Rose—but you already knew that—Blimey, alright—let’s pretend I know what I’m doing here, but I assure you it’s harder than it looks—”

The crowd chuckled slightly, and she allowed herself a small breath to fully relax before launching into the words she had prepared.

“When I arrived here at Hogwarts, almost seven years ago, I thought I knew what to expect. Since I was old enough to remember, I’d heard countless stories about this place from my mother, my aunts and uncles—stories about three-headed dogs and secret passageways, dragons and house-elves and a giant snake that roamed the plumbing for a thousand years. I knew that you had to run at the barrier between platforms nine and ten to take the train and that you had to tickle the pear to get into the kitchens; I knew that there were merpeople in the Black Lake and centaurs in the Forbidden Forest, and I knew that the staircases liked to change directions when you weren’t looking. I knew all about the adventures my family had had here, the friendships they had found and the Battle that took place within these walls.”

She paused to take a breath, and saw that she was still holding everyone’s attention. She saw Scorpius in the second row and the wizard shot her an encouraging smile. She smiled back, and continued with a new surge of confidence.

“Looking back now, I realize I didn’t have a blasted clue what I was in for,” she let out a light laugh, and the crowd laughed with her. “Despite all their stories, it was necessary for me to experience these things for myself to see what they were really like. And early on, I realized that Hogwarts isn’t just a place where we come to learn to do magic. Sure, that’s what we’re supposed to do here, otherwise the Boy Who Lived might have just been the Boy Who Was Really Good At Quidditch,” she joked, shooting her Uncle Harry a grin as the crowd chuckled once more.

“But I believe that in the last seven years, we’ve done more than just learn spells and pass exams here. We’ve made friends,” she shot a quick glance at Gaia, Sicily and her roommates, “and enemies, who turned out not to be as bad as we thought,” Another quick glance at Francesca, “and, like many of our parents before us, we even found love here.”

She looked at Scorpius then, a small blush on her cheeks.

“Hogwarts is more than just a school. It’s a place where we come to fall and scrape our knees, to get back up, to dodge Bludgers and catch Snitches. It’s a place where pumpkins hang in midair on Halloween, and where the enchanted ceiling tells you what kind of day you’re having; a place where we are surrounded by magic at every corner, where every stone that makes up the castle is embedded with the stories of those who were here before us. Hogwarts is a place where we come to grow, to find out the extent of our abilities and to test our own limits, to learn who we are and who we want to become.”

She caught a glimpse of Ron then, and was sure she wasn’t imagining the proud look on his face, but still looked away as she continued.

“I want to say my thank you’s now, before I inevitably get a little emotional,” she said with a shaky smile. “I want to thank my Mum, Hermione Granger, for being the most encouraging mother, the best role model and smartest witch I know, and my Dad, Draco Malfoy, for being the best source of support I’ve known since I was fourteen,” she looked to the wizard, who had an arm around Hermione’s shoulders as she cried profusely, “and the rest of my wonderful, mad family. My friends, who have put up with me with more patience than I could’ve anticipated or deserved all these years. My teachers, who pushed me and made me believe I was capable of conquering every challenge they hurled in our direction.”

She grinned: “My brilliant Quidditch team: Jackie, Duncan, Hollie, Conrad, Andy and Sicily, who gave me the joy of winning the Cup two years in a row—” a small bout of cheers from the Gryffindors in attendance.

“And I want to thank the Head Boy, in particular.”

A few people turned to look at Scorpius, but his gaze was locked on Rose’s golden eyes. “Despite the fact that you were the bane of my existence for most of our formative years—” a short laugh from the crowd, “—I don’t believe I would’ve gotten through any of the challenges of the past year if I hadn’t had your patience, strength and quick wit to keep me alert and on my toes and to remind me that I’m capable of much more than I believe I can handle. You’re my rock, Scorp, and I’m infinitely grateful that we got to go on this journey together.”

He beamed at her, and she smiled back, before again addressing the entire audience, ignoring the prickling of tears in her eyes and keeping her voice steady.

“I’m sure I speak for all of my class when I say that today has a bittersweet flavor to it. The time has come for us to leave the safety of this place, to spread our proverbial wings and to move on to greater adventures—and while a part of us may be itching to leave here and get on with the rest of our lives, I think it’s very comforting to look at you all and be reminded of the fact that no matter how much time goes by where we don’t return here, Hogwarts will always be here to welcome us home.”

* * *

( _Life Is A Song_ \- June 9 th – 11:47am – Grounds – Hogwarts)

Following short speeches from all the Heads of House, Rose watched as McGonagall began to call up the seventh years. The first graduate “Adams, Spencer _”_ was a Gryffindor, and he stepped up to take the scroll of parchment and shake each professors’ hand amid applause from the spectators while McGonagall began to call the next students up.

“Bobbins, Eliza… Boot, Lyra…” and then: “Carrigan, Audrey,” and Rose clapped and cheered with her housemates as Audrey walked up to McGonagall with a proud smile, pushing her spectacles up her nose as she went.

“Cooper, Landon,” was next, and Scorpius whistled. Then “Curtis, Hayley” stepped up in golden Hufflepuff robes before “Davies, Gaia.” The witch, standing slightly taller than usual in high-heels, walked up and gave McGonagall a hug when she took her diploma while Rose, Sicily and the rest of their friends screamed each other deaf as they cheered for her.

“Edgecombe, Camilla” in navy blue Ravenclaw robes, then a couple Slytherin girls and a boy from Hufflepuff before “Goldstein, Leo” , Hollie’s brother, stepped up. A few minutes later, both MacMillan twins were called up, and then:

“Malfoy, Scorpius.”

Rose stood up then, clapping and cheering with the rest of the class as Scorpius walked towards McGonagall. She looked back and saw Hermione, Draco and Astoria also standing as they clapped, the two witches dabbing at the corners of their eyes with handkerchiefs. She caught Scorpius’ eye as he resumed his seat and he shot her a wink. “Oakley, Iris” from Ravenclaw was next, then “Parkinson, Tobias”, who had recently begun seeing Francesca, and then “Phillips, Becca,” and she cheered again for the brunette.

“Podmore, Ruby” from Hufflepuff went up, and then “Porter, Declan” and Gaia’s voice could be heard above all the others, save from the proud shouts of his Muggle father in the back. When the next wizard, “Potter, Albus” walked up the stage, Rose thought she might seriously lose her voice, and when she stole a quick glance at her family, she saw Harry and Ginny proudly applauding their son, while Lily wolf-whistled and James gave a very audible shout of “ _That’s my brother_!”

The next few names seemed to fly by. “Rickett, Blake”, “Scott, Eldrige”, “Statham, Oliver”, “Sterling, Jade”—Jackie’s sister—before “Van der Laar, Sicily” walked up, looking like a million galleons, shooting McGonagall a dazzling smile while Rose and Gaia in particular screamed themselves hoarse.

Rose barely had a chance to recover from applauding Sicily when she was being ushered to her feet and after “Wallace, Liam”, she heard barely heard McGonagall call out “Weasley, Rose” because the shouts from her classmates and family were positively deafening. She walked calmly across the stage and embraced the Headmistress.

“Congratulations,” McGonagall said and Rose thanked her, taking her diploma before shaking the hands of each Professor as McGonagall called up “Wyatt, Vivanne.” She looked towards her mother before stepping down from the stage and saw that Hermione was crying harder than ever, waving at her. She waved back, just as McGonagall called up the last graduate “Zabini, Francesca” and Rose clapped for her old rival as she resumed her seat, absolutely bursting with happiness.

After the applause had died down, McGonagall asked all the students to stand and draw their wands, and on her cue, they all shot up sparks in their House colors to celebrate, and the crowd of parents, family and professors all clapped and cheered as McGonagall’s magically magnified voice boomed out once more.

“I give you, the Hogwarts Class of 2024!”

* * *

 

( _Let It Go_ \- June 9th – 12:09pm – Grounds – Hogwarts)

In the following minutes, the chairs disappeared and the students broke apart to join their families. It was a bit chaotic, with the celebrating parents and students and the loud chatter that ensued, and Rose lost sight of Scorpius and the others as she searched to the crowd to find her family, but found Ron instead.

He spotted her first, and once she saw him, she took a deep breath and approached the elder wizard. _Be the bigger person and all that bollocks_ , she thought.

“Hi,” she said, careful to keep the usual venom and resentment out of her voice.

“Hey,” he said back. “Er—congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she said, barely lifting the corners of her mouth in a polite smile.

“Your speech was great,” he said, and she thanked him again, but it hung thick in the air; the fact that she had acknowledged Draco as her father in front of everyone instead of him. A few seconds of silence, and then Rose spoke.

“You came alone,” she said, as if just realizing this.

Ron nodded. “I—I’m getting a divorce,” he said. “I’m moving back to England.”

She couldn’t keep the unashamed shock from her voice. “What?”

“Yeah…” Ron gave his beard a scratch. “Lavender’s been having an affair for the past two years with a bloke she works with, but I only found out about it last month. Turns out Hugo knew,” he added. “That explains why he ran out at Christmas the year before last. I’m guessing he either thought I was an imbecile for allowing it, or an even bigger prat for not realizing it was going on.”

“Oh,” she said, suddenly understanding Hugo’s behavior towards his father. “I’m sorry.”

Ron smirked. “No, you’re not.”

“I am if it makes you sad,” she confessed. “Despite all your faults, I wasn’t exactly wishing for something like that to happen.”

Ron nodded in understanding. “Thank you. What are your plans now?” he asked.

“Well, I got an internship at the Ministry, in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I start in September.”

He smiled at that. “That’s—that’s great. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“What are your plans now?” she echoed his earlier question.

“Well, I’m moving back to England—I’ve actually been back for a couple weeks, finding a house and all—I got a place in Bournemouth,” he explained. “And I guess I’ll keep running the company with George. And your mother invited me to the wedding.”

“She did?”

Ron nodded. “I’ll never understand how a single person can be so forgiving, but that’s Hermione for you.”

She nodded in understanding, mulling over her next words. “Listen… I’m sorry about what I said the last time we saw each other.”

Ron shook his head. “Rose, if anyone has to apologize, it’s me. You were right to say those things—they’re all true, after all.”

She nodded. “All the same,” she thought of Scorpius, and how _he_ was making an effort with Astoria, “I realized recently that eventually I have to learn to let those things go. I’d like to fix things between us—but for that to happen, you have to understand that you have to learn to accept my choices, even if you don’t particularly like them, if you expect me to do the same for you.”

Ron nodded. “I’m sorry, about what I said about Scorpius—he does seem like an alright bloke—Draco too,” then, with visible effort. “He’s done well, stepping in as your father—he’s definitely more deserving of the title than I am.”

“I’d like to forgive you,” Rose said. “I really would, and I’m guessing Hugo will too, once he hears about you and Lavender. Can we—you know—slowly see if that’s possible?”

Ron nodded. “I think we can manage that.”

Rose smiled. “If you want, you could er—stay for lunch, with us. Maybe talk to Hugo.”

The wizard mulled over her offer for a few moments. “Alright.”

Rose smiled again. “Alright then.”

“Do you need help finding your parents?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied. “That would be great, actually.”

* * *

 

(Meanwhile)

* * *

 

(June 9th – 12:09pm – Grounds – Hogwarts)

Scorpius’ grey eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the telltale mane of Rose’s hair or a glimmer of platinum blond that meant his father and Hermione were nearby, but came up with neither, until he nearly toppled over a witch.

“Merlin, I’m sorry—” he gripped her by the upper arms to keep her from falling over, and found himself face to face with Astoria Greengrass.

“Oh,” he stared, releasing her the instant she had regained her footing. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, a smile gracing her painted red lips. Scorpius got a good look at her then—she looked remarkably unchanged from the last time he’d seen her. Her hair was still long, thick and dark and not yet beginning to show any grey, and her blue eyes were watching him closely. “Congratulations,” she said.

“Thank you,” he smiled sincerely. “I—er—I’m glad you came.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” she said again. “I was chatting with Draco and Hermione just before the ceremony, but I lost track of them a bit back—”

“I was just looking for them,” Scorpius told her. “Did you like the ceremony?”

“It was charming,” Astoria replied. “And Rose’s speech was lovely… She’s quite the girl. Very similar to her mother, from what I gather.”

“She is,” the younger wizard smiled fondly. “She’s amazing.”

“You care for her very much, don’t you?”

He nodded, now spotting Rose a little ways from them, chatting with Ron Weasley. He watched them closely for a moment, before deciding that there was no imminent threat of confrontation between the two. “There she is now.”

Astoria’s gaze followed the direction in which she was pointing, her blue eyes locking on Rose in a second. “You two make a lovely couple.”

“Thank you.”

A few seconds of tense silence ensued before Scorpius spoke again. “Are you staying for lunch?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Astoria said. “I wasn’t sure if I ought to.”

“I’d like it if you did,” Scorpius shrugged. “It would give us a chance to talk and you could meet Rose—I bet Mum and Dad would enjoy it if you did.”

Though she flinched almost imperceptibly when Scorpius referred to Hermione as ‘Mum’, Astoria nodded, the corners of her mouth turning upwards once more. “Alright. I’d love to.”

Scorpius grinned, and before she could help herself, the witch’s arms wrapped around her son’s shoulders and she gave him a quick hug. “I’m very proud of you,” she said.

Scorpius relaxed slightly into her embrace, returning the hug. “Thank you.”

Just as she released him, Scorpius caught sight of Rose and Ron heading in their general direction, and he called out to her. “Rosie!”

The witch spotted him instantly, and she rushed over, leaving Ron behind. “There you are, bloody hell, I’ve been looking everywhere f—”

She noticed Astoria then, and her amber eyes widened slightly. “Oh. Hello,” she extended her hand. “I’m Rose—Rose Weasley. Scorpius’ girlfriend.”

Astoria smiled at her and shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rose. I’m Astoria Greengrass.”

* * *

(June 9th – 12:17pm – Grounds – Hogwarts)

“Honestly, Draco, I can’t believe you lost sight of them!”

“Merlin, Granger, there are probably about two-hundred people here—how was I supposed to keep sight of them in the first place?”

“Well, I don’t know—I can’t see anything—do you see them?”

Draco craned his neck in an attempt to get a look over the sea of people to find Rose and Scorpius. Finally, he caught a glimpse of the signature Malfoy blond hair. “There, I see them.”

He grabbed his fiancées hand, leading her through the crowd. When they approached Scorpius however, they saw that he and Rose were deep in conversation with Astoria Greengrass. Neither of them wanted to approach and interrupt, so they stood off, hoping not to be noticed, until a voice next to them made them jump.

“There you are. Rose was looking for you.”

“Blimey, Weasley!”

“Godric’s sake, Ronald—who taught you how to sneak up on people like that?” Hermione berated.

“Ginny,” he shrugged. Pointing at the two teenagers: “They’ve been talking to Greengrass for about two minutes.”

“Did you talk to Rose?” Hermione asked.

Ron nodded. “It went better than I expected, honestly.”

Draco and Hermione looked at the ginger wizard in surprise. “What did she say?” asked the witch.

“Well, for starters, that she wants to forgive me, and she wants to fix things—but if that’s to happen, I have to learn to accept her choices, even if I don’t agree with them,” he said, and looked to Draco before he continued. “I’m guessing she was referring to your son.”

Draco stepped forward, his brow furrowing. “If you even try and get between them, Weasley—”

“Easy, Malfoy,” Ron said, holding up his hands. “I’m not going to do anything. I’ve already mucked things up enough with Rose—I’m not about to try and interfere when it’s pretty obvious to anyone who isn’t dead from the neck up that he makes her happy.”

He nodded towards the young couple for emphasis; the two were smiling, chatting happily with Astoria, Scorpius’ arm around Rose’s shoulders and her hand against his chest. Ron sighed and Draco looked at him again. “Listen, Malfoy. As much as it pains me to say it, you’ve done a good job, being the father Rose and Hugo needed when I neglected my duty to them. So I want to thank you.”

He held out his hand, and a surprised Draco shook it. “No need to thank me, Weasley,” he said after a moment. “I love Rose and Hugo as if they were my own.”

Ron nodded, but any further exchange was interrupted because Rose had just spotted them. “Mum!”

The younger witch rushed over, giving her mother a tight hug and triggering another wave of tears from Hermione. “My baby,” the elder witch whispered. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Mum,” Rose whispered back. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Rosie.”

Draco had walked over to Scorpius and was embracing his son, repeatedly telling him how proud he was and how much he loved him. When the two men separated, Rose cleared her throat as Scorpius went to hug Hermione.

“Weren’t forgetting about me, were you?” Rose asked Draco with a grin.

“’Couldn’t forget you if I tried,” Draco said, hugging her. “You did wonderfully, Rosie.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she said.

“There you are.”

The four of them, plus Astoria and Ron, turned at the sound of Hugo’s voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you—Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry are waiting for us to go up to the Great Hall with the others.”

“Please, Hugo, don’t show so much excitement over the fact that your _only sister_ just graduated at the top of her class,” Rose deadpanned. “I can’t handle you smothering me like this.”

Hugo grinned, catching his sister in a hug as she approached him. “Congratulations, sis.”

“Thanks, pipsqueak,” she grinned. “Hey, can I have a word?”

He looked puzzled but nodded. Rose told the others to go on ahead to the castle and Hugo watched as Ron departed with Astoria, Draco, Hermione and Scorpius. After the group was a bit farther away from them, joining Harry, Ginny and the rest, Rose looped her arm into her brother’s and made to follow them.

“You asked him to stay, then,” he said, his voice low.

“Yes,” she acknowledged. “And before you get all cross with me, hear me out—because you know I wouldn’t have done it without a good reason.”

Hugo nodded in recognition of this fact. “Alright,” he said finally. “That’s fair. Talk.”

“Well, for starters, he’s moving back to England—he and Lavender are getting divorced.”

Hugo’s blue eyes snapped to hers, genuine surprise on his freckled face. “They are?”

Rose nodded. “It appears that Ron found out about her affair.”

“About bloody time,” Hugo muttered.

“I understand that you probably didn’t want to talk about it,” Rose went on, “and that’s why you didn’t tell me. He apologized to me just now, and he said he’s willing to fix things with us—on our terms. Watching Scorpius take the step in attempting to mend his relationship with Astoria put things into perspective for me, and I realized it’s silly for me to keep wasting energy hating him for his mistakes. I told him I want to forgive him, but for me to do so he has to accept my choices—including Scorpius.”

Hugo mulled over her words. “And you want me to do the same; to forgive him.”

“No, not exactly,” she admitted. “I want you to talk to him and decide for yourself.”

The younger wizard nodded. “Alright. I guess I could do that.”

Rose smiled as the two neared the doors to the castle. “Come on,” she said. “I’m starved.”

“Aren’t you always?”

* * *

 

(June 10th – 5:14am – 7th Year Girls Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower – Hogwarts)

“You’re up early.”

Rose looked up, barely making out Gaia’s shape in the dark of the dormitory. The brunette walked up and sat beside Rose on the window seat, both of them looking out at the dark grounds. “Never went to bed, actually,” the Head Girl confessed. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“That makes two of us,” Gaia replied.

“Three,” came another voice from the dark. When both witches looked up, they saw Sicily leaning against the post of Rose’s bed. “You lot packed?”

Rose nodded, as did Gaia. “Last night,” said the latter.

A few moments of silence ensued, and Rose had an idea.

“Fancy a walk?"

* * *

 

( _Blackbird_ – June 10th – 5:32am – Grounds – Hogwarts)

They’d ended up in a secluded area near the lake, underneath the branches of a willow—an actual, civilized willow—overlooking the water. The sky had barely begun to lighten with the sunrise approaching, and they sat side by side in the dewy grass, still in their dressing gowns—Gaia next to Rose next to Sicily. The latter had protested a bit at the notion of sneaking out, but relented after a quick reminder from Rose that they were graduates, and therefore couldn’t be punished.

“I can’t believe we’re leaving today,” Rose said softly.

“Me neither,” said Sicily with a sigh.

“It feels like it all went by so quickly,” Rose added.

Gaia nodded. “In a few months, you’ll be at the Ministry,” she looked at Rose, “and you’ll be signing your contract with the Harpies…” a glance at Sicily. “And I’ll be—Well, I don’t know what I’ll be doing, to be honest.”

The other two looked at her in surprise. “You don’t?” Sicily asked.

Gaia shook her head. “I’ve got a few offers, of course. From the Ministry, mainly—apparently Magical Games and Sports and the Muggle Liaison Office are interested, but I’m not yet sure what I want to do… Declan had a thought—” she smiled a bit, looking at her hands. “See, he doesn’t really know what he wants to do yet either. He said we could take off for a year. Travel, see the world. And maybe by the time we come back, we’ll know what we each want to do.”

Rose smiled at her friend. “You should do it.”

Gaia looked at her, and at Sicily’s encouraging smile. “You think so?”

Sicily nodded then. “Honestly, the two of you are so thick sometimes—it makes perfect sense for you to do that. I always thought you’d take some time off after Hogwarts—travel and spend your time hopping from show to show, seeing bands and sleeping in sleazy inns… It’s very _you_.”

Gaia laughed. “Yes, you’re right about that.”

There was a very pregnant pause, and the very first rays of sunshine appeared above the horizon, lighting the sky and clouds above them in different shades of pink, orange and lavender.

“I’m going to miss you two,” Gaia said after a minute.

“Me too,” Rose sighed.

“You have no idea,” said Sicily softly. After a moment: “Of course, it’s not like we won’t see each other. The wedding is in a couple weeks.”

Rose nodded. “And I’ll be damned if I don’t go to every single one of your games.”

“Same here,” Gaia smiled.

Sicily grinned. “Of course you will.”

“I meant what I said in my speech yesterday, you know,” Rose said. “I really don’t know what I would’ve done without you two all these years.”

“Die an early death, probably,” said Gaia.

“In a horrible, gut-wrenching freak accident that could’ve been perfectly prevented,” Sicily added.

Rose laughed. “I love you, you twats.”

“Of course you do,” said Gaia, grinning.

“We should head up,” Sicily said. “The train is leaving at nine, and we’ll want to have breakfast before we go.”

The other two nodded and they helped each other up off the grass, walking up to the castle in the cool, crisp light of the early morning.

* * *

 

(Two weeks later)

* * *

 

(June 24th – 2:03pm – St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries – London)

“Miss Granger? Healer Mirkwood will see you now.”

Hermione looked up from the magazine in her lap at the mediwitch who was waiting a few feet away. “Oh, yes. Thank you,” she said, getting up, and leaving the magazine on the chair as she took her purse. She followed the mediwitch down the hall to the appropriate door, knocked and let herself in.

Julia Mirkwood had been Hermione’s Healer since before Rose had been born. She’d been at Hogwarts a few years above her, in Hufflepuff, and had seen her through both pregnancies. Naturally, when Hermione started feeling out of sorts, she was the Healer she went to. The witch turned in her chair just as Hermione came in, standing up and walking around her desk to great her with a hug.

“It’s so good to see you!”

“You too,” Hermione said. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Merlin, it’s no problem,” the Healer motioned for her to have a seat. “You’re one of my oldest patients. Congratulations and best wishes, by the way,” she added, her eyes glancing at the diamond ring on Hermione’s left hand.

“Thank you,” the witch smiled.

“When’s the wedding?”

“A week from Saturday.”

“I hope everything goes wonderfully,” the Healer said sincerely, taking Hermione’s file from a drawer behind her before resuming her seat, and Hermione smiled again. “Now, what can I do for you?”

Hermione bit her lip nervously. “Well, I’ve been feeling out of sorts lately.”

“How so?”

“I’ve had headaches, more often than usual and stronger, too,” Hermione explained. “I’ve also been feeling winded and dizzy a lot lately, without doing much effort. And I’ve had nausea or vomiting pretty much every morning for the past week and a half.”

Healer Mirkwood gave her a knowing look. “Let me guess—and you’ve missed a period as well.”

“Well, yes—I don’t really understand _how_ —It must’ve completely slipped my mind, I’ve had so much to do with work and the wedding and everything else, but I forgot to take the potion last month.”

The Healer nodded. “You’re nothing if not consistent, Hermione—but I’m afraid that even missing one dose means the Potion would’ve been washed out of your system by the start of your last cycle.”

Hermione nodded, biting her lip again. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“It’s alright—I’m sure if I had a fiancé like yours, I’d probably forget as well,” she said with a wink. “But, if you truly want to know, I can perform the spell and we’ll know for certain if you are pregnant, or if you’re simply going through a period of hormonal imbalance as a result of not taking the potion.”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded. “That’s why I’m here—to find out whether I’m worried over nothing, or if I really am pregnant.”

Healer Mirkwood eyed her carefully. “Would being pregnant really be the end of the world?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Hermione answered honestly. “I mean, I certainly wasn’t expecting it... My two eldest just graduated from Hogwarts two weeks ago and my youngest got his O.W.L. scores last week, for Godric’s sake. At my age—”

“It’s perfectly normal for witches to become pregnant at this age,” the Healer said calmly. “We age slower than Muggles do, so our reproductive system is still active until at least our mid to late fifties. You’re healthier than most, Hermione. If you are pregnant, it will probably be as smooth as your other two pregnancies.”

Hermione nodded in understanding, a bit calmer now, but still noticeably nervous. “I’d like to find out now.”

“Wonderful,” the Healer got to her feet, extracting her wand from her pocket. “If you could please lie down here,” she motioned to an examination table against the wall.

Hermione complied, trying her best to relax as the Healer pulled up her shirt to expose the smooth skin of her lower stomach.

“Alright, take a deep breath.”

Hermione complied, feeling the tip of Healer Mirkwood’s wand graze her stomach and a soft, pleasant warmth underneath her skin. She didn’t have to look down to know that her skin would start glowing any second now, and after a moment she saw that the light was a pleasant golden color.

“It appears your suspicions were right,” Healer Mirkwood declared. “You are indeed pregnant—” she muttered another incantation and the light shifted “—about six weeks or so along. Congratulations.”

Hermione felt the nerves she’d had for the past few days subside, replaced by a sudden urge to laugh. “I can’t believe it.”

* * *

 

(June 24th – 9:23pm – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

Hermione heard the distinctive _crack_ of Apparition outside the front door just as she finished loading up the washing machine, followed by the sound of Draco entering the house.

“Hermione?”

“In here!” she called out.

In the seconds it took her to program the machine’s cycle, Draco found her in the laundry room. “There you are.”

“Hi,” she said, leaning up to give him a kiss, humming in appreciation at the feel of his soft beard.

“Where are the kids?” Draco asked.

“They went out to see a movie with Hugo’s girlfriend—lovely girl, by the way,” Hermione explained. “Tiny little ginger thing. How was dinner?”

“It was alright—Bancroft wouldn’t stop talking about you though.”

“Is that right?” she asked.

“Bloody in love with you, I swear—I don’t know _when_ he’s planning on retiring, seeing as he’s going on about a thousand years old.”

“You’re awful,” she slapped him playfully in the chest.

“No, you’re awful,” he said. “Making me go to a dinner with the head of Muggle Liaison on my own… How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she said with a small smile, avoiding his gaze. “I thought I’d get some laundry done.”

“Really, Granger?” Draco smirked. “You’re doing laundry on a Monday night?”

“Well, _excuse me_ , laundry police,” she shot back, taking his cloak and heading out into the hall to put it away in the closet. “ _Someone_ has to do it, seeing as you won’t.”

“It’s not my fault I can never get the blasted thing to work,” he defended.

She looked disapprovingly at him, hands on her hips. “Honestly, Draco, it’s just a washing machine. It’s not thermonuclear astrophysics.”

“Don’t give me any of that bollocks—I can operate pretty much every muggle appliance in this house except that thing—it hates me.”

She rolled her eyes and walked off in the direction of the living room, and he distinctly heard her mutter something that sounded a lot like “ _useless, spoilt, purebloods”_ as he made to follow her, a light chuckle on his lips. She walked out to the living room, searching in the liquor cabinet before coming up with a bottle of Ogden’s Finest.

“What are we celebrating?” Draco asked, taking a seat on the couch as she poured a measure of firewhisky into a glass.

“I have something to tell you,” she said simply, walking over and handing him the glass. She didn’t take a seat in front of him, but rather remained standing between him and the unlit fireplace.

“No drink for you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

Draco frowned. “You can’t drink?”

She shook her head again. “Not for the next eight months or so.”

“Eight months? Granger, what are you on ab—” and he stopped suddenly, looking at her with wide eyes. “You don’t mean…”

Hermione nodded vigorously, her eyes filling up with tears. “Yes.”

“You’re _pregnant?_ ”

She nodded again, smiling. “Yes. The Healer confirmed it today.”

“Oh, my Merlin,” Draco said, now resting a hand lightly on Hermione’s stomach. Almost disbelievingly: “There’s a baby in there.”

She nodded again, now crying freely. “There is.”

“Our baby,” he said softly.

“Yes,” she smiled. “We’re going to be parents again.”

He carefully set his drink down on the end table, quickly rising to his feet and pulling Hermione in for a sweet, passionate kiss, moving his lips against her in that purposeful, confident rhythm that had become so familiar to the both of them over the past three years.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips a moment later, his arms still around her.

“I love you too,” Hermione whispered back. “You have no idea.”

* * *

 

(June 30th – 9:34am – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

Rose gingerly got up from her bed after shutting off her alarm, stifling a yawn as she donned her dressing gown and left her room. After a quick stop in the loo to brush her teeth and attempt to give some semblance of order to her sleep-mussed curls, she followed the smell of breakfast downstairs, finding the rest of her family in the kitchen. Scorpius was getting coffee, Draco was tending to the stove and chatting with Hugo about a Manchester United football game that would take place that afternoon and her mother was perusing that morning’s _Daily Prophet._ She allowed herself a small smile of contentment before entering the kitchen.

“‘Morning, all,” she said, giving Scorpius a quick kiss as she passed him and they all greeted her.

“Do you want some coffee?” Scorpius asked, holding up her mug.

“Decaf, please,” she answered.

“Weakling.”

“Addict.”

“Judgmental prat.”

“Arrogant git.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and Draco laughed.

“You know,” Hugo interrupted, in between bites of egg. “I wondered if the two of you would ever become all sweet and sickening to each other—it’s good to see that some things never change.”

Rose chuckled in spite of herself.

“You’re a wanker.”

“Love you too, Scorp.”

They sat to tuck into their breakfast, when a sudden tapping at the window made them all look up. Two owls were perched on the sill outside, and Rose paled at the sight of the envelope each owl carried. “Is that—”

Beside her, all the blood had drained from Scorpius’ face, leaving his already pale visage a sickly shade of white. Hugo’s O.W.L. scores had come the week before, so these could only be theirs. “It is.”

Hermione got quickly to her feet, opening the window to let the owls in; the two birds gracefully perched themselves on the kitchen counter, each holding out its right leg. Scorpius and Rose approached the owl holding the letter addressed to each of them. Rose’s hands were shaking so badly it took her nearly a minute to successfully grasp the knot that tied the envelope to the owl’s leg; beside her, Scorpius was similarly struggling with his own envelope. Hugo, Hermione and Draco waited in tense silence, breakfast all but forgotten. After what seemed to be an eternity, Rose managed to detach the envelope. She opened it with a violent tremble in her hands, unfolding the parchment inside:

NASTILY EXHAUSTING WIZARDING TESTS RESULTS

Pass grades: Outstanding (O) – Exceeds Expectations (E) – Acceptable (A)  
Fail grades: Poor (P) – Dreadful (D) – Troll (T)

_Rose Ginevra Weasley has achieved:_

CHARMS — O  
DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS — O  
HISTORY OF MAGIC — O  
POTIONS — O  
STUDY OF ANCIENT RUNES — O  
TRANSFIGURATION — E

Beside her, Scorpius’ eyes were wide as he looked at his own scores:

NASTILY EXHAUSTING WIZARDING TESTS RESULTS

Pass grades: Outstanding (O) – Exceeds Expectations (E) – Acceptable (A)  
Fail grades: Poor (P) – Dreadful (D) – Troll (T)

_Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy has achieved:_

CHARMS — E  
DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS — O  
HISTORY OF MAGIC — O  
POTIONS — O  
STUDY OF ANCIENT RUNES — O  
TRANSFIGURATION — O

“Oh, my Merlin,” Rose said breathlessly.

Scorpius nodded numbly.

“Say something!” Hermione urged them, looking as nervous as the two had felt seconds prior.

“Five O’s!” Rose said, “And an E in Transfiguration! I can’t believe it!”

“An E in Transfiguration?” asked Hugo. “What, you couldn’t manage six O’s? Blimey, Rose, it’s like you’re adopted or something…”

Rose, Draco and Hermione scowled at him. “What? I’m only taking the piss.”

They all looked to Scorpius then; after a few more seconds of gawking at the parchment, he finally regained use of his voice and echoed Rose’s words: “Five O’s, and an E in Charms!”

“Oh my Merlin!” Rose said again, now hugging Scorpius tightly. “We did it, we did it!”

Hermione squealed in delight and practically jumped up and down, rushing over to embrace the two teenagers. Draco and Hugo congratulated them next, and after they had let the owls out of the house, the five of them sat back down to finish their breakfast. The elder couple exchanged a look.

“—we’ll want to mail copies of these off to the Ministry straight away,” Rose was saying as Scorpius spread strawberry marmalade onto his toast, and Draco cleared his throat loudly to get their attention. The three teenagers looked at him, their eyes flickering from his obvious joy to the smile on Hermione’s face.

“We have something to tell you three,” the witch said.

“You’re not calling off the wedding, are you?” asked Hugo.

“ _No_ ,” Draco said pointedly. “No one’s calling off anything—we actually wanted to wait until after the wedding to tell you, but now seems as good a time as any.”

“What is it?” Scorpius asked.

“Well,” Hermione began. “I’ve been feeling out of sorts lately, so I went to see Healer Mirkwood on Monday.”

“You’re sick?” Rose asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Not exactly,” Hermione said. “I’ll just be a bit under the weather for some time... Just under eight more months, to be exact.”

The three looked more confused than ever, until Rose suddenly gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth. “No way!”

“What?” asked Scorpius and Hugo in unison. Hermione and Draco only smiled.

“You really can’t be _that_ thick,” Rose admonished, looking to each wizard in turn. “She’s pregnant, you nitwits!”

The two boys gasped and looked from Draco to Hermione; they both nodded in confirmation.

“You’re pregnant?” Scorpius asked. Hermione nodded again.

“Are you serious?” asked Hugo.

“As dragon-pox,” Draco said.

“Who else knows?” asked Scorpius.

“Just the five of us, plus the Healer,” Draco said. “We’re going to hold off telling the family until after the wedding.”

Rose seemed unable to restrain herself any longer, and jumped up to hug her mother. “Godric, this is wonderful!”

“Blimey, a baby!” Hugo said, as though he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the concept.

Scorpius smiled broadly at his father. “Congratulations.”

Draco couldn’t have looked prouder if he tried.

* * *

 

(July 6th – 1:53pm – Lobby, The Royal Livingstone Hotel – Manchester)

Rose hurried into the lobby as fast as she could without damaging the bouquet in her hands. She thanked Merlin, Circe and Morgana herself for glamour charms; otherwise she might have already smeared all her makeup and ruined her hair from the run to get to the florists’ and back in the roasting July heat. The lobby was mercifully cool, and she rushed over to the glass doors that lead out back to the gardens.

The Royal Livingstone was the only wizarding hotel in Manchester. It was mostly the same as the average five-star muggle hotel, with the exception that most muggle hotels didn’t exactly have a concealed entrance through a dingy alleyway on one of Central Manchester’s main avenues. Though the planning of the wedding had mostly been handed over to Draco’s mother, Narcissa, who had moved back to England from Germany the year before, Hermione and Draco had insisted on booking the entire hotel—mostly to ensure privacy—and all the guests had been given suites to stay in.

Rose had been up since the crack of dawn, taking a hasty breakfast in the bride’s suite before running down to help Narcissa and Barbara, the wedding coordinator, direct the staff as they put the finishing touches on the garden outside, where the wedding was to be held. Hugo, Scorpius, Draco and her uncles had put up the tent themselves that morning, along with a number of strong cooling charms to protect from the stifling heat. Narcissa had dismissed her at around ten so she could go upstairs, shower and have her hair and makeup done, but disaster had struck barely an hour and a half before the wedding.

Roxanne—George and Angelina’s youngest and arguably the most mischievous Weasley to grace the family tree since Fred himself—had become quite bored after being put into her flower girl dress and being told by her mother that _no, you may_ not _go play with your brother downstairs now would you please sit still before you ruin your dress._ Roxanne, along with the other flower girl—Percy’s six-year-old, Lucy—had found entertainment by playing catch… With Hermione’s pristine bouquet.

The two young girls had tossed it about in Hermione’s suite, and no one noticed for the first few minutes, as the entire bridal party was too preoccupied with things like lipstick and false eyelashes and _no for the last time, I don’t want_ _my hair straightened, thank you very much._ When Ginny finally noticed that the thing Roxanne and Lucy had been tossing around was the bride’s bouquet, she’d nearly had a coronary; her scream of panic distracted young Lucy from catching the flowers and the entire bridal party had watched helplessly as the flowers flew straight into the fireplace—which had been kept lit so as to keep the Floo connection open. By the time anyone could react, the flowers had been burnt and charred beyond magical repair, and Hermione had nearly burst into tears.

“Don’t cry,” Ginny warned her. “Don’t you dare cry, Hermione.”

“But—but they’re _ruined!_ ” the witch cried. Hermione had been very sensitive, with the combined stress of the wedding, the pregnancy—though it was still a secret to the rest of the family—and the added emotion of her deceased parents not being there on the big day; as such, the witch had a very difficult time containing the onslaught of tears at the sight of her ruined bouquet.

“Rose,” her aunt had called her, as the witch had been the first of them to have her hair and makeup finished. “Can you go down to the florists and get a replacement? We only have an hour or so left—I don’t care what you do, hex them blind if you have to, just have them make another.”

Rose had rushed out of the hotel in a blur, with strict instructions to deliver the bouquet to Narcissa’s hands only, Apparating the twenty or so blocks to a secluded park that was just around the corner from the florist’s. It had taken two threats of bodily injury and about ten minutes of screaming at the florist, still clad in the silk dressing gown she’d been wearing while she got ready, brandishing her wand and smelling faintly of hairspray and burnt flowers and _what part of ‘the wedding is in an hour’ are you failing to grasp here, mate_ —but she had done it, and now she was running out of the lobby, quickly locating Narcissa, already clad in a lovely set of dress robes, as she checked and double checked the name cards on the rows of silver chairs, covered in delicate, off-white fabric.

“Narcissa!”

The witch looked up immediately and Rose finally stopped running as she approached her. “There you are!”

“I got it,” she said breathlessly. “Exactly like the other one.”

She handed over the bouquet, a rich arrangement of large white and off-white roses paired with smaller ones of the lightest, most delicate pink, tied together with a grey satin ribbon. Narcissa inspected the bouquet, turning it around in her hand before deeming it satisfactory.

“Wonderful,” Narcissa said. “I’ll keep it down here with the others. You should go dress. Barbara will be up to get you all once the guests have come down.”

Rose nodded, still struggling to catch her breath. She caught the elevator back up to the fourth floor and walked down the hall to suite 423, feeling much more refreshed and calm by the time she opened the door. The hairdresser and makeup artist had been dismissed and the bridesmaids, Ginny, Luna and Angelina, were helping each other into their gowns, similar to Rose’s except for the noticeably lighter shade of grey. The three witches looked up at her when she entered the suite and collapsed into one of the vacant chairs.

“Did you get it?” Luna asked, holding Ginny’s dress for her as the ginger stepped into it.

Rose nodded, now noticing the absence of her two young cousins. “Safe and sound with the others downstairs. Where are the girls?”

“Audrey took them downstairs before Angelina got a chance to murder Roxanne,” Ginny answered, turning to zip up the back of Angelina’s dress. “Have you eaten anything?”

The younger witch shook her head. “Not since this morning.”

“Scorpius brought that by for you,” Luna said with a knowing look, now pointing to a takeaway pizza box on a nearby couch.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Rose sighed, practically lunging for the pizza and tucking in. Between bites: “Remind me to thank him later. Where’s Mum?”

“She’s in the loo,” Angelina answered. “If you want, I can help you into your dress once you’re done.”

Almost on cue, Hermione came out of the lavatory just as Rose was finishing off her second slice of pizza. “Oh, thank Godric, you’re back. Did you get it?”

“Yes,” said Rose, holding her dress up against her chest while Angelina zipped her up. “Narcissa has it with the others. Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“Says the witch currently three slices into a vegetarian pizza,” Hermione scoffed. She walked over to the couch and stole a slice from Rose’s pizza, grinning when the younger witch protested.

“Oi!”

“It’s bad manners to deny the bride pizza on her wedding day.”

Rose rolled her eyes, shedding her dressing gown so Angelina could help her into her dress. A moment later, Luna settled one of the flower crowns Madam Rosenbaum had sent over that morning into her hair. Rose caught a glance of herself in the mirror; standing tall in three inch heels, the dress flowing and hugging her figure nicely, with her hair pulled back at the sides and pinned into place underneath the flowers, she looked quite lovely. Taking her wand from where she had discarded it, she pointed it at her teeth and muttered a quick _Scourgify._

She caught Hermione’s look of disapproval from where Ginny, Luna and Angelina were helping her into her gown and smirked. “Would you rather I risked getting toothpaste on my dress?”

Hermione frowned. “No, I suppose not.”

The bridesmaids finished buttoning up and adjusting the fall of Hermione’s dress; Ginny settled the flower crown against her chocolate curls and they all stood back to admire her.

“Wow, Mum,” Rose smiled. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Draco won’t know what hit him,” Angelina said.

Ginny and Luna nodded in agreement, and Hermione smiled at them all. “Thank you.”

Rose walked up to her mother and carefully embraced her. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you, love,” Hermione whispered back.

“I’m going to check on Draco and the boys,” Rose said, carefully dabbing away a tear at the corner of her eye. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Don’t take too long!”

She left the suite and took the elevator up to the next floor, to the suite directly above theirs, and knocked sharply on the door.

“Coming!”

When the door opened, she saw Scorpius, looking very much put together in his charcoal grey tux. His eyes widened when he saw her, and his jaw slackened as he saw her turn once in her dress, a bright smile on her face.

“You look—Wow. Merlin. You look gorgeous.”

She gave him a quick kiss. “Thank you. And thank you for the pizza.”

“No need,” he smirked. “I figured you would need sustenance if you were to make it through the ceremony.”

“Prat,” she admonished. “Now, are you going to gawk at me all afternoon or can I come in?”

He grinned, letting her in. The suite was practically identical to the one the bridal party had, and she saw Draco, his back turned to her, helping Hugo with his tie as Blaise Zabini stood nearby fastening his cufflinks. Harry was near the mirror, attempting half-heartedly to get his hair to lie flat. “Well, don’t you look dashing?”

At the sound of her voice, Draco turned to look at her, an eyebrow quirked in surprise. He shrugged. “I guess I clean up alright.”

“You guess?” Harry said skeptically.

“That was my attempt at humility, Potter,” Draco frowned. “But since you insist—of course I do, Rosie. You may forget this, but I’m actually posh as fuck.”

The others laughed heartily.

“You look wonderful,” Draco said to Rose.

“Thanks,” she grinned. “You lot look pretty sharp.”

“We tried,” Hugo said. “You look great, sis.”

“Wait until you see Mum,” she grinned.

“If she looks half as good as you, I’ll be a happily stunned man,” Draco said.

“Well, in that case,” Rose moved to straighten her father’s tie. “You’d better brace yourself because you just might pass out.”

* * *

 

( _Canon in D Major_ \- July 6 th – 2:36pm – Gardens, The Royal Livingstone Hotel – Manchester)

A string quartet was playing Pachelbel’s _Canon in D Major_ when the wedding party entered the tent and began the walk down the aisle towards the wizard that would officiate the wedding—Kingsley Shacklebolt himself. Following Lucy and Roxanne as they dusted rose petals on the aisle, Angelina walked in first on Blaise’s arm, closely followed by Luna and Hugo, then Harry and Ginny and then Rose and Scorpius, arm in arm. Draco walked behind them, leading his mother to her seat.

On the way down the aisle, Rose spotted many familiar faces in the crowd: Gaia, Sicily and Declan waved to her discreetly, and she saw Francesca sitting with her mother. Her grandparents were sitting near the front with George and young Fred, and Percy, Audrey and their eldest, Molly sat beside them, with Charlie and Ron sitting behind them. Bill and Fleur had been unable to attend, but Rose spotted her cousin Victoire with Teddy Lupin and his telltale shock of turquoise hair; in the next row, she saw Luna’s husband Rolf and their nine-year-old twin boys, as well as Neville and his wife, Hannah, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas and Lee Jordan. Andromeda Tonks was sitting in the seat next to Narcissa’s, and Rose could also see Jude Nott, Hugo’s best friend, with his father, Theo, and his mother, Pansy Parkinson. Near the back, she had seen McGonagall and Flitwick and a few other high-rollers from the Ministry.

When the entire wedding party had reached the front, Kingsley asked everyone to stand for the bride. The entire assembly let out a collective sigh when Hermione entered the tent, seemingly floating down the aisle with a dazzling smile on her face. Draco looked as if he might actually burst from joy, and when Scorpius’ caught Rose’s eye, he saw that her eyes were glazed over with tears but she was grinning from ear to ear when Hermione reached Draco.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls,” Kingsley’s voice boomed out confidently. “We are here to witness the coming together of an unlikely pair—a witch and wizard who began as rivals, then turned to allies before finally finding love in each other later on in life…”

Rose quickly realized that she wasn’t the only one holding back tears; a great deal of sniffling could be heard from the crowd of guests, and a quick glance at the groomsmen proved that even Hugo was having a rough time keeping it together.

“Do you have the rings?”

Scorpius fumbled in his pockets for a moment before coming up with the small velvet box and handing it to his father; Rose took Hermione’s bouquet as the witch joined hands with Draco.

“Do you, Draco Lucius, take Hermione Jean…”

Rose was properly crying now, again thanking Merlin himself for the glamour charm that kept her makeup mercifully intact. Behind her, she could hear her aunt Ginny taking deep breaths to stop her own tears when Draco and Hermione said their ‘I do’s’.

“…then I declare you bonded for life. You may now kiss the bride.”

The entirety of the guests rose to their feet, clapping and cheering madly as a shower of silver stars rained down upon the bride and groom as they kissed, engulfing them in light.

* * *

 

( _The Blower’s Daughter -_ July 6th – 5:56pm – Reception Hall, The Royal Livingstone Hotel – Manchester)

Rose cleared her throat, tapping her fork lightly to the flute of champagne she held in her hand to get everyone’s attention. One by one, all the guests turned in their seats at the various tables to look at her, and she cleared her throat once more, blushing.

“Hello, everyone,” she said. “I’m Rose, the maid of honor... I haven’t exactly got the hang of public speaking yet—but Scorpius and I drew straws when we wrote this speech together and I got the short one, so I’ll have to go first.”

A small ripple of laughter through the guests gave her the confidence to keep going. “We are here today to celebrate with two of the people I love most—my mum and dad.”

She looked to Draco and Hermione, sitting beside her. “While I think everyone here agrees that the two of you are not the most likely pair, I’m sure they haven’t gotten to witness the two of you together as closely as Scorpius, Hugo and I have. I would guess that most of you—” she directed her gaze to the guests, “—don’t know that Dad can’t operate the washing machine at home to save his life, and Mum will insist that he’s just being silly and that _honestly Draco, it’s not advanced Arithmancy, it’s just a washing machine_.” Another laugh.

“Most of you won’t know that Mum will have coffee ready first thing in the morning, every single day, because Malfoys can’t function properly until they’ve had caffeine. You won’t get to see how she straightens his tie every morning before they leave for the Ministry, or see the loving, almost goofy look he gives her when she goes into a tirade about something she’s passionate about… Most of you never get to see the details,” she paused, allowing herself a small smile. “But I do. While to most, you may be an unlikely pair, a case of ‘opposites attract’—to me, what you two share, makes more sense than anything in the world. Even a blind, deaf, daft man could see how much you two love each other. It’s something quite brilliant to watch, honestly, and I hope that I get to experience it for myself someday—though something tells me I will.”

She glanced at Scorpius beside her, resting a hand on his shoulder before again looking to her parents:

“I’ve truly enjoyed seeing you make each other happy every single day, and I hope to keep seeing that happiness for the rest of your lives. I love you both very, very much, and I wish you the best on this new adventure.”

Rose smiled at her parents just as Scorpius stood to continue, pecking a quick kiss to her lips. She smiled and remained standing, watching as the wizard nervously ran a hand through his hair before commencing his half of the speech.

“Alright,” he began. “I’m Scorpius, the best man… Just to get a few quick things out of the way: yes, I am in fact dating the maid of honor; no, we aren’t actually related, except now by marriage; and yes, those pictures of Dad and I wearing Gryffindor gear at Hogwarts’ Quidditch Cup Final are real.”

The guests laughed again, and Scorpius grinned. “Now, I think the question on everyone’s mind now is ‘ _how do these two make it work?’_ —It’s certainly the question that’s plagued my mind for the past three years, and until recently, I had yet to come up with an answer. These are two people who wake up every day and find a million reasons to be pissed out of their minds at each other—for things like what kind of take-away to order or whether the books in the study should be in alphabetical order by subject or by author or _no Granger, for the last time I will not change my sodding jumper just because you don’t like the color.”_

The guests laughed; even Hermione and Draco could be seen suppressing chuckles.

“These are two people who know how to get on the other’s nerves like no one else I’ve ever met; who, as Rose put it, are constantly pegged as opposites, when in reality, they’re quite similar. They both have a sharp mind and a quick wit, a short temper, and a shocking ability to intimidate anyone and anything into giving a straight answer without Veritaserum. And to be honest, I think the answer to my previous question is that they don’t make it work.”

He paused then, shooting his parents a fond smile; Hermione looked like she might cry again, and Draco was smiling broadly at his son.

“They understand that you can’t force any relationship to work and you certainly can’t expect it to be perfect; you just have to wake up every morning and fall in love with that person all over again, to remind yourself of all the wonderful things about them that make you want to stick around. You two are an example of patience, understanding and unconditional love, and I’m so, so grateful that you found each other. I love you both, and I also wish you the best in all the challenges that lie ahead.”

He and Rose raised their glasses then and spoke in unison. “To the bride and groom.”

* * *

 

( _The Blower’s Daughter -_ July 6th – 11:23pm – Lobby, The Royal Livingstone Hotel – Manchester)

It was late; the summer sun had finally sunk below the horizon just three hours prior, and most of the guests had started to retire to their rooms as the party began to die down. The band was playing a slow, quiet ballad and Draco and Hermione were swaying softly in the middle of the dance floor as Scorpius and Rose watched them from their table. The couple showed no signs of wanting to retire to their suite just yet, despite the fact that they’d be leaving for Fiji on an early flight the next morning to begin their honeymoon.

“Would you like to go join them?” asked the wizard.

“Oh, Godric, no,” Rose snorted, her back pressed against his chest as she leaned into him. “I’ve danced enough—I don’t think my legs could hold me up at this point.”

Scorpius chuckled under his breath, taking their entwined hands and kissing her knuckles softly. “You know... I’ve got a room to myself upstairs.”

“Do you?” said Rose, the smirk evident in her voice.

“Mhm. I don’t think they’d mind if we went up.”

“I suppose not.”

Rose allowed Scorpius to help her to her feet, picking up her shoes from where they lay discarded on the table and stealing another glance at their parents.

“They look happy don’t they?” she said.

“They do,” Scorpius agreed. She looked at him then, at his familiar features and his silvery eyes, and the way his lips curved slightly upwards in a smile.

“I love you,” she said, and his eyes focused on her again, unmistakable surprise and elation in their depths.

“I love you too,” he replied, and she kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck as they broke apart.

“Come on,” she tugged him by the hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Tired already?” he teased.

“Oh, just you wait.”


	7. Long-Term Side Effects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned:
> 
> Epilogue – Justin Hurwitz (from La La Land)  
> Riptide – Vance Joy  
> Home – Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros  
> Mia and Sebastian’s Theme - Justin Hurwitz (from La La Land)  
> Black Betty – Caravan Palace  
> Between The Bars – Elliot Smith

 

Long-Term Side Effects

Or

_Epilogue_

* * *

 

( _Riptide -_ October 13th, 2024 – 6:23pm – Rose and Scorpius’ flat – Camden, London)

The iPod on the speakers was playing an old Vance Joy record in the background as Rose unpacked another box; this one contained a brand-new, all-white set of dishes—a housewarming gift sent from Brussels by Astoria. She heard Scorpius re-enter the flat and turned just in time to watch him set down another heavy box in the middle of the living room with a grunt.

“Honestly, love; you should just levitate those—we’re three floors up.”

“Yes, Rose, because our new _muggle_ neighbors will react just fine to see me walking up the stairs pointing a wooden stick to a box floating in midair,” Scorpius smirked. “Besides, this is the last one.”

“Thank Merlin,” Rose said. “Who knew we had so much stuff?”

“Who knew we had so many _books_?” Scorpius amended. “We’re going to have to sort through some of those later—I think most of them are duplicates.”

“We can’t throw them out,” Rose said, her eyes wide. “Mum’ll have our heads if she ever finds out.”

“She won’t,” Scorpius assured her, taking throw pillows out of one of the boxes in the living room and tossing them onto the couch. “I’m sure we can donate them or something.”

“Alright,” Rose granted. “We can look through those later. Did you remember to tip the movers?”

“Yes, love,” he replied, walking over to the kitchen to help her unpack their new things. “Merlin, did Mum buy the entire store? I’m pretty sure she’s got us just about every kitchen utensil known to man.”

“She’s just trying to be thorough,” Rose said, closing the cabinet she’d put the dishes into.

“It was thorough enough that she and Dad buy us the flat in the first place,” Scorpius said with a frown. “It’s not that I’m not grateful—but I have half a mind to pay them back once we can afford it.”

“They wouldn’t hear of it,” Rose said. “I already suggested it.”

Scorpius let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, honestly—what the bloody hell is this even _for_?”

Rose turned to see what he was holding up. “It’s a corkscrew,” she explained, stifling a laugh. “To get the corks out of wine bottles.”

“I’m almost certain there’s a charm for that,” Scorpius answered, turning the corkscrew over in his hand to examine it before putting it in what they had agreed would be the silverware drawer. “And thank Salazar, because I don’t think I could operate that thing properly without stabbing myself in the hand.”

Rose laughed at that. “Oh, the mail came while you were downstairs.”

“The mail? How long was I gone?”

“Long enough for an owl to come and go, apparently. You’re getting slow with age.”

“You try lugging boxes up three flights of stairs for hours on end without magic,” Scorpius scowled. “It’s just our luck that we move in on the one day the elevator’s getting maintenance done.”

Rose approached him and looped her arms around his waist, planting a kiss between his shoulder blades. He was warm and only slightly sweaty, but still smelled deliciously of cologne and aftershave. “You’re cranky when you’re tired.”

“Not to mention hungry. Did you get the number for that Indian place we saw on the way down here?”

Rose nodded. “I’ll call them up in a bit.”

The two stood in silence for a few moments before Rose spoke again. “I can’t believe this place is _ours._ ”

“Me neither,” Scorpius replied, and she could hear the beginnings of a smile in his voice. “You have to admit, it’s a pretty thoughtful gift.”

“Mhm,” she agreed.

“You said we got mail?” Scorpius asked, now turning to face her.

The witch nodded, taking an envelope from the back pocket of her jeans. “From Gaia and Declan. And Sicily finally sent over those tickets for her debut match.”

The wizard opened the envelope; the first thing to come out was a Polaroid muggle photograph of Gaia and Declan in sunglasses, looking very tan and smiling broadly. He grinned and took out the letter, his eyes quickly scanning Gaia’s loopy, messy handwriting.

_Darlings,_

_Just a short note to check in. Landed in São Paulo yesterday_ — _we managed to get tickets to the last day of Lollapalooza and we decided to stay here for the rest of the week. We’re off to grab dinner just now. You would love it here, the people are incredibly interesting, the food is amazing and the weather is downright enviable_ — _35°C and clear skies in the middle of October, honestly_ — _and the hostel we’ve been staying in is absolutely charming. This letter might take a few days to reach you, but either way_ — _we’ll be back in England for the first two weeks of November, to catch Sicily’s first match, and then we’ll be off to Mexico to spend Christmas with Declan’s parents in Acapulco. We miss you terribly!_

_See you soon,  
Gaia  & Declan_

* * *

 

( _Home -_ December 25th, 2024 – 3:28pm – Granger-Malfoy Household – Manchester)

“Rose, could you get the door?” Draco called out from the kitchen. “That’s probably Ginny and Harry.”

“On it!” Rose called back, deeming the tinsel she was adjusting on the banister of the stairs satisfactory. She walked over to the front door, her heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor as she went, and opened it to find Harry, Ginny and Lily on the other side. “Hi!”

The newcomers greeted her, wishing her a Happy Christmas as she took her cloaks. “Draco’s in the kitchen, Mum’s upstairs getting ready and Scorp and Hugo went out to get drinks. Where’s Al?”

“He said he’d meet us here,” Lily answered her as her parents walked off in the direction of the kitchen. “I think he’s bringing a date,” she added in an undertone.

“What?” Rose asked.

Lily nodded. “Mum thinks he’s been seeing her for a couple months but this is the first time he’s actually hinted at us meeting the witch. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Merlin’s beard,” Rose gaped.

Lily glanced around the living room. “I thought Uncle Ron was coming by today.”

“He stopped in for breakfast but he was having dinner over at Gran’s,” Rose explained. “But focus, Lil. Al is bringing a date?! Al. The Al. Albus Potter. Your brother. Near-sighted, self-proclaimed bachelor, Albus- _I’m not about to restrict myself to just one witch_ -sodding Potter is bringing an actual date?”

“Apparently so,” Lily shrugged. “Must be pretty serious, too, if he’s bringing her ‘round for Christmas dinner.”

Rose barely had the chance to recover when Hermione’s voice called out from the stairs. “Lily!”

“Hi, Aunt Hermione!” Lily rushed over to help the witch down the stairs; seven months into her pregnancy, Hermione’s stomach was a large, round extension of herself, but the witch’s physique was otherwise unchanged and as such she refused anyone’s help and waved Lily off, pulling the young witch into a hug once she had cleared the bottom step. “How’s my favorite Quidditch Captain?”

“I’m great,” Lily replied, and the doorbell rang once more. Rose rushed over to get it, finding Albus on the other side—holding hands with none other than Sicily.

“Godric’s grave!” Rose exclaimed.

“Well, this certainly makes things a little easier,” Sicily murmured to Al.

“ _You_?” Rose gaped at her friend. “You—You’re his date? In seven years at Hogwarts I never saw you say yes to any of the hoards of idiots who were drooling at your feet. And you say yes to _this_?” she pointed at her cousin.

Albus blinked. “Blimey, Rosie, you sure know how to make a bloke feel good about himself.”

“You shut it,” she barked at him. “You’re dating my best mate!”

“Well, to put it bluntly—yes,” Albus sighed.

Rose punched his arm.

“ _Ow_!”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“What do you think I was planning on doing today?”

“Rose,” Sicily intervened, “Do you think we could come in? We’re sort of freezing our bums off out here.”

Rose let them in, shooting them both a scowl as she shut the door behind them. “I’m still angry at the both of you—I’m only letting you in because the pregnancy hormones have made Mum a bit murderous and she’ll probably _Crucio_ me on the spot if I let you freeze to death on the front porch.”

Sicily smiled as she shed her cloak. “Missed you too, Rosie.”

Almost two hours later, the lot of them sat down to dinner; Draco next to Hermione, then Rose, Scorpius, Ginny, Harry, Albus, Sicily, Lily and Hugo. As they all began to heap food onto their plates, it was Scorpius who finally asked what the rest were all dying to hear.

“Alright, so spill. How’d you two end up together?”

Albus and Sicily looked sheepishly at each other for a moment; Sicily finished chewing and began to answer. “Well, we talked a bit at the wedding—but we didn’t really start talking properly until a couple months ago.”

Albus had gotten a job as a Quidditch correspondent at the _Daily Prophet_ just before the start of the Quidditch season. “When I started at the _Prophet,_ they wanted to do an interview piece on the Harpies’ newest Chaser, but they weren’t sure how to approach her—”

“—Albus mentioned we knew each other from Hogwarts and they put him up to it,” Sicily finished for him. “At first we met up a couple times for lunch—just to get the interview done, and eventually he owled me and asked me out.”

“How’re _you_ taking it, Aunt Gin?” asked Hugo. “Your son dating one of your Chasers?”

“Well, they could’ve at least _told_ me,” Ginny pursed her lips. “But it could be worse—Sicily could’ve chosen to date James.”

The others laughed. “How _is_ James?” asked Hermione.

“He’s alright,” Harry answered. “Finally getting used to the time difference and the weather—but looks like he’s enjoying California, all in all.”

“Scorp and I got to have lunch with him a few weeks ago when we went out to see a spot over in Napa that was in the running for the Cup,” Rose chimed in. “He took us to this great vineyard for a wine tasting and everything.”

“A wine tasting?” Lily snorted. “James Sirius Potter took you to a wine tasting? And neither of you thought to check for Polyjuice?”

Harry laughed. “He’s classed up then—knowing James, I would’ve guessed that he took you bar-hopping on the Sunset Strip and insisted you do tequila slammers.”

“Well, he tried that first, but Rose threatened to hex him into the next time zone,” Scorpius explained, and they all laughed again.

A couple hours later, after all the guests had left, Rose was helping Hermione clean up in the kitchen, drying the dishes as Hermione finished washing them. Draco was on the phone with his mother while Scorpius and Hugo played chess in front of the fire.

“You and Scorpius are staying tonight, right?” the elder witch asked.

“Of course,” Rose said. As an afterthought: “We can each sleep in our old rooms, if it bothers you that we sleep together.”

Hermione waved her off. “Please, I’m sure you’ve found ample opportunity to shag in the house in the past eight months.”

“Mum!”

“What?” Hermione said, ignoring Rose’s deep blush. “Darling, I may be your mother but I’m not _thick_ —am I right about you two doing it in the house, or am I right?”

Rose blushed about nine different shades of scarlet. “… Yes, you’re right.”

“I know,” Hermione smiled rather smugly. “Besides—I’ve been meaning to tell you—I’ve redecorated.”

Rose’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh?”

Hermione looked a little embarrassed. “Well, I’m turning your old room into a nursery for the baby—it’s not done yet though. But I turned Scorpius’ old room into a guest room for the two of you. I hope you’re not upset or anything—it’s just that once you two moved all your stuff out, the rooms looked really empty and it made me sad,” she confessed, suddenly overcome with tears.

Rose reached over and gave her mother a hug. “It’s alright, Mum. Really.”

* * *

 

( _Mia and Sebastian’s Theme -_ February 18th, 2025 – 3:14am – Maternity Ward, St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries – London)

Rose rushed frantically over to the mediwitch station where she found a slender witch looking to be in her late twenties, Scorpius in close pursuit.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly. “We’re here for Hermione Malfoy.”

“Are you family?” the mediwitch asked, eyeing her and Scorpius carefully.

Rose nodded. “I’m Rose Weasley and this is Scorpius Malfoy,” she said. “We’re her kids.”

“Well, she’s still in the delivery room with your father,” the witch explained. “There’s a waiting room down the hall—you can Floo any relatives from there. Once she’s out, we’ll send someone for you.”

“Right, thanks,” Rose said, leading Scorpius down the hall to the empty waiting room, where they both collapsed into chairs. The two of them were wearing coats over their pajamas; Draco had woken them at half-past two with frantic phone call, announcing that Hermione had gone into labor and telling them to send an owl to Hugo at Hogwarts and get down to St. Mungo’s as soon as they could.

“What does one _do_ when someone’s in labor?” asked Rose.

“Alert the family, I expect,” Scorpius supplied. “And wait.”

“Right,” she said. After a moment, she noticed Scorpius jiggling his leg. “Nervous?”

“Anxious, mostly,” he confessed. “We’ll finally get to meet him or her.”

A small smile graced Rose’s features. “Yeah. I’m excited, to be honest.”

“I should probably get an owl to Spiegelman and let him know we won’t be coming in to work today. And get a letter out to my grandmother as well,” Scorpius told her. “I’m going to ask the mediwitch if they even _have_ owls here. You should call Aunt Ginny and let her know Mum’s in labor.”

Rose nodded, fishing her phone out of the pocket of her coat. “I’ll see if she can stop by the flat and get some clothes for us, too. We can’t very well spend the day in our pajamas.”

Scorpius nodded, heading off to find a mediwitch as Rose dialed Ginny’s number. By the time he returned from alerting their boss and Narcissa, Harry and Ginny were already in the waiting room, having sent Al to Rose and Scorpius’ flat to get them clothes. When the wizard arrived, the two excused themselves momentarily to change, returning to the waiting room a little before four in the morning.

The clock ticked 4:39am by the time Draco burst into the waiting room, his pale face flushed and looking happier than any of them had ever seen him. The five of them had gotten to their feet when he entered the room, and he looked around at all of them with obvious elation in his grey eyes.

“It’s a girl!” he declared. “A healthy, gorgeous baby girl.”

Scorpius and Rose shared a one arm hug while Harry, Ginny and Al congratulated Draco and inquired about Hermione. “She’s fine—she did wonderfully, really, they’re both perfectly healthy.”

The wizard then turned to the both of them. “Would you like to meet your sister?”

They nodded and Draco led the group to Hermione’s room, knocking lightly on the door before entering. Hermione was on a hospital bed in the middle of the room, looking flushed and exhausted but overjoyed as she looked at the tiny pink bundle in her arms. “Hi,” she said in a hushed tone. Scorpius and Rose approached the bed carefully, looking at the face peaking out of the blankets. She was a tiny thing, really, with flushed pink cheeks and the slightest dusting of freckles spattering the bridge of her fine nose. What little hair she had was so light it was almost white, but when she opened her eyes a moment later, they proved to be the same striking shade of amber as Hermione’s and Rose’s.

“Wow,” said Albus.

“She’s…” Scorpius breathed.

“She’s perfect,” Rose finished for him, her voice barely a whisper.

“She is,” Draco walked over to the other side of the bed, sitting down with care and wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“Everyone,” Hermione said. “I’d like you all to meet Miranda Grace Malfoy.”

“We wanted to keep up the Black family tradition of astronomical names,” Draco explained. “Miranda is one of the moons of Uranus.”

“And the moon is named after a character from Shakespeare,” Hermione went on. “As am I. Miranda is the magician’s young daughter in _The Tempest_.”

“It fits her perfectly,” Ginny said with a smile.

“And where did ‘Grace’ come from?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. “We just liked the sound of it, to be honest.”

The others laughed and Hermione turned to Rose. “Would you like to hold her?”

The younger witch nodded. Hermione carefully placed Miranda in her arms, and the tiny baby girl squirmed a little in her blankets until she relaxed.

“Hi, Miranda,” Rose breathed, smiling and looking up to Scorpius when Miranda locked her amber gaze on her. “I’m Rose. I’m your big sister.”

“Hello, baby girl,” Scorpius whispered, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m Scorpius. It’s great to finally meet you.”

* * *

 

( _Black Betty -_ August 20th, 2027 – 7:02pm – Quidditch World Cup Final – French Countryside near Dijon)

“Ladies and gentleman! Welcome, welcome to the final of the four-hundred and twenty-ninth Quidditch World Cup!”

Up in the Top Box, Rose turned to Scorpius, trying to spot the commentator who was sitting just a row or two below them; they were sharing the box with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Albus, Lily, James and the latter’s wife, Erica, Hermione, and Draco, who was holding up a three-and-a-half-year-old Miranda on his lap, all of them clad head-to-toe in red and white to support the English National team. To Scorpius’ left sat Declan and Gaia beside him, a gold wedding band adorning their left hands as of just recently, and Sicily’s parents.

“Wait—the commentator! Where have I heard him before?”

“Hogwarts!” Scorpius answered. “Frankie Jones impressed the Head of Magical Games and Sports with his experience. He only got the job last week, the bloke who was supposed to do it caught spattergroit—he’s quarantined in St. Mungo’s.”

“—And now, I give you, the English National Team’s mascots!”

The crowd ooh-ed and ahh-ed as a herd of magnificent bronze hippogriffs flew over the stadium with riders atop them, circling once before landing gracefully on the English side of the pitch.

“And the Argentinean National Team’s mascots!”

From the other side of the pitch, a team of small, winged horses flew in, leading a chariot with a beautiful woman, dressed in robes of sky blue, amid cheers from the Argentineans. “She’s supposed to be Justice!” Rose explained to the family. “And the horses are winged falabellas!”

“—And now, ladies and gentleman, allow me the pleasure of introducing: _the English National Quidditch Team!”_

All of them—even Hermione—cheered manically as Frankie’s familiar voice began to announce the team and they zoomed out in robes of white and red: “I give you—Fairchild, Clarke, Van der Laar, Putnam, Bawden, Ritchmond, aaaaand _Williams!”_

The English supporters screamed and hooted, the noise almost deafening in the stadium. Beside Rose, Albus was jumping up and down, cheering for his girlfriend as she landed in the field. “ _Yeah, Sicily!”_

Miranda’s platinum curls in pigtails were bouncing as she jumped up with similar excitement, pointing out the players on their brooms to her father. “Daddy— _look_!”

“And now, I give you, the Argentinian National Quidditch Team!” Frankie called out the players in sky blue and white stripes. “Garcia, Mendoza, Alvarez, Torres, Medina, Quiroga aaaand _Bravo!”_

“And, from right here in the heart of France, our referee, member of the International Association of Quidditch, Isabelle Mercier!”

A slender witch with sharp features stepped out onto the pitch wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, her broom in hand, carrying a large box under the other arm. A silver whistle was dangling on a chain from her neck. Rose watched as Mercier mounted her broom, put the whistle to her lips and blew it as she kicked open the box, releasing the balls and signaling the start of the game.

“Aaaaand they’re off!” Frankie screamed. “Argentine immediately takes possession—It’s Captain Andreina Garcia—pass to Alvarez—back to Garcia—now Hector Mendoza—he dodges a Bludger from Captain Jack Bawden and England intercepts, now it’s Sicily Van der Laar with the Quaffle—passes to Clarke—he passes Garcia, swerves to avoid a Bludger from Victoria Torres—Evan Clarke nears the hoops—Bludger from Aaron Putman of England forces the Argentinean defense to scatter—Clarke shoots—Keeper Martina Quiroga dives—SCORE FOR ENGLAND!”

The shot was met with cheers from the English supporters as the game went on.

“—Ten-nil with England leading—Argentine back in possession—Geraldine Alvarez with the Quaffle—passes to Garcia—nice defense from Beater Gabriel Medina—Mendoza with the Quaffle—passes to Alvarez—Back to Garcia—she dodges Clarke, almost collides with Van der Laar—Olivia Fairchild of England with the Quaffle now—OUCH!—Fairchild takes a Bludger from Torres—Mendoza with the Quaffle again—he nears the English hoops— _IT’S A SAVE!_ English Keeper Lacie Ritchmond intercepts the shot, no trouble—she passes to Fairchild—”

A groan from the Argentinean supporters just as Evan Clarke tossed the Quaffle over to Sicily. “Sicily Van der Laar in possession, the youngest player on the English Team, just twenty years old—she dodges Garcia—rockets past Alvarez—this girl is _unstoppable_ —passes to Clarke—Clarke to Fairchild—back to Van der Laar—Van der Laar nearing Quiroga’s hoops—Mendoza tries to block her but he’s taken out by a Bludger from Bawden—Van der Laar shoots—SCORE!”

The noise coming from the box where Rose was sitting with her family and Sicily’s parents was deafening. The witch barely had time to recover from her shot before she was off again, in pursuit of one of the Argentinean Chasers. A couple minutes later, the game stopped for a few seconds as a foul was called out.

“Penalty awarded to England after Mercier calls a foul for blagging—Argentinean Beater Gabriel Medina grabs onto Olivia Fairchild’s broom in an attempt to stop her from scoring—Fairchild flies up to take the penalty shot—IT’S IN! The score is now thirty-nil with England still holding the lead.”

As the game wore on, the spectators in the stadium grew more and more agitated; the Chasers and Beaters seemed to be mercilessly at each other’s throats, while the Seekers dodged in an out of the action, trying to spot the Snitch.

“—Meanwhile Seekers Rex Williams and Angel Bravo are circling—the score is tied at eighty points—Garcia with the Quaffle—passes to Alvarez—Mendoza—Garcia—dodges Clarke—pass to Mendoza—he rolls over in midair to avoid Fairchild—takes a Bludger to the arm from Putnam and Van der Laar swoops in to recover the Quaffle—she passes to Clarke—pass to Fairchild, she ducks under Alvarez—passes back to Clarke—Clarke to Van der Laar—back to Fairchild—Fairchild nears the Argentinean hoops—Argentinean Keeper Martina Quiroga takes a Bludger from Jack Bawden and Fairchild scores! Ninety-eighty with England taking the lead once more—HANG ON A MINUTE! —Williams and Bravo are on the move!”

Rose and the others got to their feet; Draco carrying Miranda as the toddler pointed out the Seekers, barely two blurs weaving through the other players at warp speed. Scorpius looked through his Omnioculars and spotted Rex Williams, an almost feral look on his face as he dived after the larger and heavier Angel Bravo. As the two neared the ground, Bravo seemed unable to break—he pummeled into the ground with a dull thud that could clearly be heard across the pitch; Williams managed to pull up his broom in time, speeding forward to catch the Snitch in his gloved hand.

“—HE’S GOT IT! MERLIN’S BEARD, WILLIAMS HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!”

The English supporters went absolutely wild; a team of mediwizards were attempting to pass through the hippogriffs below to get to the injured Argentinean Seeker, who was stirring feebly on the grass. The rest of the English team was flying full speed towards Rex Williams, nearly knocking him off his broom as the seven of them landed in a graceless heap. The scoreboard shifted to read ARGENTINE: 80 – ENGLAND: 240.

“ENGLAND WINS!”

The English team took a lap of victory as _God Save the Queen_ began to blast through the stadium. The Cup was brought up into the top box as Frankie’s voice continued to narrate what was going on.

“Ministry officials bring the World Cup into the top box and hand it off to Minister of Magic, Hermione Granger just as the English National Quidditch Team enters the box—Minister Granger presents Captain Jack Bawden with the Cup and the crowd goes wild!”

Jack Bawden held up the Cup just as in one swift move, Albus took a small black box from the pocket of his jeans and got down on one knee in front of Sicily, who looked about ready to burst into tears from all the excitement. Everyone in the Top Box gasped as they realized what was going on.

“Merlin’s wand—Albus Potter has just proposed to Sicily Van der Laar here in the top box! And— _she’s said yes!”_

* * *

 

(April 23rd, 2030 – 3:09pm – Diagon Alley - London)

Rose took her younger sister’s hand as the two stepped into the Leaky Cauldron. The place was rather full; Rose thought she could make out a few people she knew from her Hogwarts days, but didn’t stop to say hello. Hannah Longbottom was tending the bar, and Rose waved to her as she passed, leading Miranda towards the door that lead out back.

“Alright,” she said, picking the five-year-old girl up and handing Miranda her wand. “Do you remember which bricks to tap?”

“Yes, Rosie,” Miranda said with an eye-roll eerily reminiscent of Draco, tapping the bricks and opening the gateway to Diagon Alley. Rose set her down, once again taking her hand as the two stepped through to the cobbled street.

“Do you want to get some ice cream?” Rose asked, and Miranda nodded. The two entered Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, emerging minutes later with identical chocolate-chip ice cream cones as Miranda waved goodbye to old Florean Fortescue himself.

“Careful, munchkin,” Rose warned her sister as she took a particularly large bite of her cone. “If you get any of that on your jumper, Mum’ll have our heads.”

Miranda laughed, the gap from her missing two front teeth evident as she did so. “You worry too much, Rosie.”

Rose pursed her lips. “Hey, want to go see the brooms?”

“Yes!” Miranda jumped in glee, her platinum curls bouncing as she skipped along at Rose’s side in the direction of Quality Quidditch Supplies. “Oh, that’s it!” she practically shouted. “It’s the new Nimbus 3000!”

Rose led her up to the window amongst the throng of children crowding to see the broom in the display. It had ebony wood and polished, dark twigs at the tail end, with silver fastenings.

“It’s so _pretty_ ,” Miranda gasped, her amber eyes wide. Looking up at her sister: “What broom did you have when you played Quidditch?”

“I had a Nimbus 2100 at Hogwarts,” Rose recalled fondly. “Aunt Ginny got it for me when I made the House Team in third year.”

“And what broom did Scorpius have?”

“He had a Nimbus 2100 as well. But he made the team a year before I did.”

“Do you think I’ll make the team when I go to Hogwarts?” asked Miranda.

“Of course, silly,” Rose said, ruffling the little witch’s curls. “You’ve been on a broom since before you could walk properly. You’re a Malfoy; I bet you’ll be the youngest player since Uncle Harry.”

Miranda smiled at that. “Can we go to Flourish and Blotts?”

Rose smirked. “You may be a Malfoy, kid, but you’re definitely your mother’s daughter.”

The two walked up the street; or rather, Miranda skipped up the street with Rose in tow, holding onto her elder sister’s hand while Rose berated her to slow down. Miranda had been quite a precocious child: she had ridden a toy broom for the first time when she was barely a year old, walked at thirteen months, talked in full sentences by the time she was two and had been reading and writing since the tender age of three. The influence of both her parents, as well as her elder siblings had resulted in two equally-matched passions for the five-year-old girl: reading and Quidditch. She let go of Rose’s hand and rushed for the children’s section the second they were in the book store, quickly finding one that caught her interest and collapsing onto a nearby cushion to peruse it.

“Rose Weasley?”

She turned at the mention of her name, finding herself face to face with a familiar face; green eyes, dark hair, an olive complexion and a nose that was very different from the one she remembered.

“Francesca Zabini? Is that you?”

“Yes,” the witch smiled. They hadn’t seen each other since Draco and Hermione’s wedding, nearly six years prior. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Rose smiled. “I thought you were living in Italy.”

“Well, yes,” Francesca granted. “I got a job with Gringotts in Milan—then I worked in Budapest for a bit, but I’ve been transferred back to London—I’ve only been back for a month or so. What have you been up to?”

“Well, I’m still at the Ministry,” Rose began. “I’ve been in International Magical Cooperation since graduation—I moved into the International Magical Office of Law the year before last.”

“And your brother and your friends?”

“Hugo’s living in Dublin—he’s just opened up a racing broom company with Jude Nott. Gaia and Declan eloped in India a few years back—they’re living in New York now. And Sicily married my cousin Albus the year before last, they’re living over in Cardiff,” Rose said. “Congratulations, by the way.”

Francesca followed Rose’s gaze to the engagement ring on her finger. “Oh, yes. I met my fiancé back in Italy—his name is Stefano. We’re getting married next spring.”

“That’s great,” Rose said sincerely. She felt a tug on the hem of her shirt and looked down to find Miranda, book in hand.

“I want this one,” the younger witch said, before noticing Francesca. “Oh, hi.”

“Hello,” said the elder witch, obviously surprised.

“I’m Miranda Malfoy,” and she held out a tiny hand for Francesca to shake; the elder witch’s green eyes were round as saucers. “Who are you?”

“I’m Francesca Zabini,” the witch replied, shaking the tiny blonde’s hand. “I went to Hogwarts with Rose.”

“Oh, okay,” Miranda replied. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Rose watched the exchange with an amused smirk at the shocked look on Francesca’s face and the curious gaze on Miranda’s. “Alright, munchkin—how about you pick another one while I finish talking to Francesca and I’ll be up to pay for them in a minute?”

“Okay,” Miranda replied with a broad, toothless grin as she returned to the shelves. “Bye!”

Rose turned to Francesca, who waved absentmindedly the five-year-old as she walked away to look through the books. “Sorry about that—Miranda can be a bit precocious.”

“It’s alright—how old is she?”

“She turned five in February,” Rose answered, shooting her sister a fond smile.

Francesca’s eyes were still wide. “I had no idea you and Scorpius…”

Rose’s eyebrows shot upwards in realization and she shook her head. “Oh, Merlin! No—Miranda isn’t ours, Godric. She’s our sister, actually.”

Something that oddly resembled relief flooded Francesca’s face. “Oh, of course! She’s Draco and Hermione’s baby, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Mum and Dad are moving some furniture today and Scorpius had to work, so I’ve got her for the afternoon.”

Francesca nodded in understanding. “She sure does look like you, though. I mean, the hair and her features have _Malfoy_ written all over them, but she’s got your eyes and freckles.”

Rose smiled. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You and Scorpius are still together then?”

“Yeah,” Rose said, her smile widening. “We’ve got a place over in Camden—he’s at the Ministry as well, but he moved over to Magical Law-Enforcement last year.”

“No wedding plans?” Francesca asked with a knowing grin.

“Not yet,” Rose smiled, and caught sight of Miranda waving her over to the register. “Listen, I’ve got to go—it’s great to see you, though—we should meet up for lunch and catch up properly, yeah?”

“That would be great,” Francesca smiled. “I’ll owl you, yeah? Give my best to Scorpius.”

“Alright,” Rose smiled, waving at the witch as she walked away in the direction of her younger sister.

* * *

 

(December 18th, 2030 – 5:13pm - Rose and Scorpius’ flat – Camden, London)

“Scorp? I’m home!”

Rose shed her gloves, scarf and hat, discarding it, along with her keys and wand, on the kitchen counter as she entered the flat. The warmth of the roaring fire was a blessed relief after the chill outside, and she heard Scorpius call out from their room as she was shedding her coat.

“I’m in here!”

She found her boyfriend of just over six years sitting on the floor in the middle of their bedroom, wearing flannel pajama bottoms and an old Puddlemere United jersey, surrounded by a mountain of gifts and wrapping paper. He was currently in the middle of wrapping the training broom they had gotten Miranda for Christmas, turning it over and inspecting it with an unsatisfied look on his pointed face.

“Do you have any idea how to wrap up a training broom so that it doesn’t actually _look_ like a training broom?” the wizard asked.

Rose rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

Scorpius waved her off. “I’m fine—one little cold isn’t going to kill me.”

“You’ve been taking the Pepper-Up Potion?”

“ _Yes_ , Rose. Every six hours like you said—my ears only just stopped smoking about twenty minutes ago. Help me up, will you?”

Rose caught his hand and heaved him to his feet. “How was work?” he asked.

“Oh, it was fine—Hubermann’s getting on my nerves though, honestly,” Rose said, sitting down on their bed.

“You should seriously consider Pearson’s offer,” Scorpius said, sitting beside her. “Hubermann’s a prick and he takes you for granted.”

“I know that,” Rose sighed. “It’s just… I don’t want to be a part of the Minister’s support staff while my mother is still the Minister, you know?”

Scorpius nodded. “And what about moving in to DMLE? I heard Kaminsky is retiring after the holidays.”

At this, Rose perked up. “She is?”

“Yep.”

“I guess that would be alright—I mean, with Dad moving into the Senior Undersecretary post, there’s no family to speak of in DMLE—other than _you_ of course.”

Scorpius leaned over, giving her a light kiss. “Hmm. Plus it’ll be fun to be back in the same department—we can shag in the supply closets like we used to.”

“That happened _one time_!”

“And I never forget it.”

“Behave,” Rose warned, getting up to walk out of the room. “Or I’ll turn your coffee into decaf when you’re not looking.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” he smirked, following her to the kitchen.

Rose laughed. “Listen, I don’t feel like cooking—how does Mr. Chow’s sound?”

“Brilliant,” Scorpius answered.

“Alright then.” She retrieved her coat, putting it on as Scorpius began to move the presents from their room to the Christmas tree in the living room. He ended up tying a large golden bow onto the handle of Miranda’s training broom just before setting it under the tree.

“Minimalistic,” Rose commented, tying on her scarf. “Upfront. Honest. I like it.”

He snorted indignantly. “You know Miranda and I finally had the talk yesterday when I picked her up from football on the way to Mum and Dad’s.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. Imagine my face when she asked me how it was that she was your sister and my sister, but you and I weren’t siblings and it was okay for us to be a couple.”

Rose chuckled as she put on her gloves. “That child is too smart for her own good. What did you tell her?”

“The truth,” Scorpius shrugged, walking over to her. “She managed to grasp it pretty well and all—then she asked why we’re not married like Mum and Dad.”

“Merlin,” Rose shook her head, quickly giving him a kiss. “Talk about pressure—Er—I will be back in about fifteen minutes, alright?”

He nodded, watching as she grabbed the keys and left through the front door.

* * *

 

( _Between The Bars -_ December 18th, 2030 – 6:09pm - Rose and Scorpius’ flat – Camden, London)

Rose reentered the flat some twenty minutes later, carrying a large paper bag with Mr. Chow’s logo stamped on it, and a bag that seemed to contain a six pack of beer. She set the bags down on the counter, Scorpius watching her from one of the barstools as she took the take-away containers out.

“Alright, I couldn’t really decide what to get, so I got a bit of everything, really: the House Special rice, spicy fried Szechuan Chicken, deep fried Won Tons, sweet and sour chicken—I got the Cantonese since you don’t like the regular one—Honey barbecue pork, spring rolls, shrimp chop suey, mushroom chop suey and apple fritters for dessert.”

“Blimey, Rose, is an army coming over to eat?”

She snorted inelegantly. “Please. Living with me for six years has opened up your appetite considerably, if nothing else. If we’re lucky, we’ll have the containers left when we’re done.”

Scorpius smirked and watched as she distracted herself with putting the beers in the fridge, leaving two of them on the counter. “I know you prefer butterbeer, but I didn’t want to Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron and let the food get cold, so I got these at Mr. Chow’s—I think Heineken will go quite nicely with the pork, actually and—”

She stopped abruptly mid-sentence when she turned. Scorpius was leaning back onto the backrest of the barstool, arms crossed over his chest and smirking. In front of him, on the counter between the beer and the mushroom chop suey, was a small, black velvet box.

Rose blinked. “What is that?”

“A complete history of magical tax law,” Scorpius snarked.

Rose scowled at him.

“What do you think?” he grinned. Rose approached the counter hesitantly, still looking at the little black box. “It won’t bite. Open it.”

Rose picked up the box with trembling fingers, opening it to find a stunning ring. It was white gold with a single, large diamond in the center, and smaller diamonds embedded into the band. “Holy fucking shit on a stick,” she breathed.

“That’s my great-grandmother’s ring,” Scorpius explained. “Druella Black—She left it to my Grandmother when she died.”

“Scorpius…”

Golden eyes filled with tears met grey, and he stood up, stepping around the counter to take her free left hand in his own. He sighed.

“I’ve had that ring stashed in the back of my underwear drawer for a year and a half,” he said to her. “I’ve been working up the guts all this time—trying to find the right moment to ask, putting it off because it didn’t feel _right_ just yet. It wasn’t until Miranda asked me why we’re not married that I realized how silly I was being and how ludicrous it is that I hadn’t even plucked up the courage to ask—I love you, Rose. I have been certifiably, madly, irrevocably in love with you for the better half of my life. I don’t want to wait anymore. Will you marry me?”

For the first few seconds Rose could only nod, happy tears spilling down her cheeks as she allowed Scorpius to place the ring on her finger. “Godric, yes! A thousand times, yes!”

He smiled then, pulling her into his arms and spinning her around as he had in the Great Hall all those years ago when they’d both been accepted into the Ministry. “No getting rid of me now, Weasley,” he whispered between kisses.

Rose laughed. “Weasley? Don’t you mean Malfoy?”

The grin he wore widened so much it looked almost comical. “I can get used to that.”


End file.
